Hunted
by Queen of Crystallopia
Summary: (Book 4 in the Paint it Black series) The Dravec are dead. The Avengers have returned. Safe, victorious, home. But after being hunted like an animal, Peter Parker struggles to slip back into normal life. His friends and team assure him he's safe, but his senses keep telling him otherwise. Blaming PTSD, Peter doesn't realize that the hunt is far from over. It's only just begun.
1. A Code of Honor

**A/N: Before starting this fic, be aware that this is book four in the Paint it Black series. Of course if you haven't read the earlier installments, you are still more than welcome to enjoy this story, just be aware that there will be many references and plot points to my established timeline. **

**See you at the end! ;)**

* * *

**Hunted**

_Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man, _

_And those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it,_

_Never really care for anything else thereafter. _

-Ernest Hemingway, "On the Blue Water"

**Chapter One: A Code of Honor**

**...**

**...**

**Edward Price**

I enter the room with my shoulders thrown back and head held high, a disdainful expression set firmly across my face to distract from the sweatiness of my palms and the way my hand trembles around its grip on the briefcase.

I'm not afraid. I'm not.

I take in the study, careful to keep my expression the same; bored, unimpressed. It couldn't be further from the truth.

_Holy shit._ My fingers clench around the slick metal handle. The wealth around me is staggering, but it makes the furnishings all the more disturbing.

The vaulted ceiling is shadowed, the only light in the room coming from a massive, roaring fireplace, large enough for four men to stand inside it with room to spare. The heat in the room is sweltering, and I resist the urge to pull at the collar of my shirt. Flickering orange light casts eerie shadows across the trophies littering the walls, lining the walkway.

The room is filled to the brim with animals.

All dead, of course.

Dead and stuffed with beady black eyes that gleam and seem to follow my every footstep. To my right, a lion is frozen, his paw reaching towards me, claws glinting in mid swipe. To my left, a grizzly bear, standing up on thick legs, his shaggy fur giving off an orange glow from the firelight as he bares his jagged teeth in a menacing snarl.

The animals, the _trophies_, I correct myself, are everywhere, each animal more impressive than the last. And for those too big to fit in the study, the buffalo and rhino and elephants, their heads or tusks are mounted on the walls, framed on polished wooden plaques.

A frozen menagerie.

My eyes are drawn to the back of the room as I stride forward, a huge, towering arm chair placed directly in front of the fire, seated at an equally large and ornate desk, the fiery glow casting the seated figure in dark shadows. His form is sprawled on the chair like it is a throne, and I can't make out much besides the thick, muscled forearms, and the gleaming, black leather boots resting on the rug on the floor.

Not a rug, I realize. The skinned fur of a polar bear.

_Jesus Christ. _

"Mr. Kravinoff," I call, giving him a winning smile. I surreptitiously wipe my sweaty palm on my slacks before stretching it out towards him in a handshake.

The man doesn't move an inch. I'm left standing there awkwardly, about five feet away, with my hand sticking out uselessly in the air. I clear my throat and drop my arm back to my side.

"You will address me as Kraven," his Russian accent is thick, his voice a deep, rumbling growl.

"Er...Kraven, then. My apologies. I'm-"

"I don't care to know your name," Kraven interrupts, and I try not to bristle. "State your business, or get out."

My outrage is buried beneath a thicket of nervousness. This is not a man to cross. It's why I was sent here in the first place. So I clear my throat again, and gesture from my briefcase to the desk in front of him. "May I?"

He doesn't answer, so I assume he doesn't much care. I lift the briefcase onto the desk and fumble with the clasps, my sweaty fingers slipping on the slick metal for an embarrassingly long moment.

"_Posmotri na drozhashchego trusa_," Kraven murmurs deeply, and the guards I didn't even notice standing on either side of the desk a respectful distance away, snort out their laughter.

My face reddens. I don't speak Russian, but I know when I am being mocked. Clenching my teeth together, I finally open the case, lift out the slim, gray file, and place it on the desk in front of Kraven.

"My employer would like to enlist your services, Mr….er, Kraven," I straighten my spine, waiting for him to open the file and look at the photographs and documents within.

He doesn't.

"The file," my voice cracks slightly, and I clear my throat before continuing, "contains information on the vigilante known as Spiderman. The protector of Queens, they call him, perhaps you've heard…? No? Er-my employer has become aware of your numerous talents, your incomparable skill, and is willing to pay you a handsome fee if you would see to it that Spiderman is...taken care of. He has become quite a thorn in our...organization's side, you see."

My eyes shoot to Kraven's right arm, the thick muscles beneath his skin tightening. When he speaks next, I fight the desire to shrink into the floor. "I allow you, to come into my home, and you see fit to insult me?" His voice is low, tight, full of deadly promise that makes my skin crawl. "I am no mercenary."

"I didn't-"

"I am a hunter," Kraven's massive fingers dig into the fabric of his chair.

"We've _sent_ mercenaries," I blurt nervously, beads of sweat rolling down my back. "We've hired the best that money can buy. None have even come close to eliminating him. He's bested them all, and we-"

"Turn around."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

"Turn. Around," Kraven's voice brooks no argument. Stiffening, my chest tight with the beginnings of panic, I turn slowly, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

"Look at him," Kraven orders in a low rumble. "Look at the beast before you."

My eyes fix on the animal barely a few feet in front of me.

"Tell me what you see."

I swallow thickly, my breath coming out in a tense wheeze as I take in the pitch black fur, the inch long, pale fangs, the sharp, yellow eyes boring into me. "It's, uh, it's a panther."

"Look again."

My teeth grind together as my fingers curl into shaking fists. Whatever test he is giving me, I am failing. And I do not want to know what happens to those who fail this brute of a man's tests. My eyes fly over the cat's form, looking for any special detail, any remarkable trait or sign that I should be noticing. Nerves clench my stomach into tiny, painful knots. What the hell am I missing? It's a panther, isn't it? What is it that he wants me to see?

Just when I'm about to give up, I see it.

I don't know much about big game animals. Nothing, really. But my daughter watches enough of the discovery channel for me to know that the biggest cat out there is the tiger. Behind the panther's stuffed form, an orange and black striped cat lurks, its size significantly smaller than the ebony colored beast in front of me. This panther is unnaturally _huge_.

"It's a Wakandan panther," I breathe, my eyes widening in shock. How the hell did Kraven manage that? Since making itself known the world, Wakanda is still notorious for being impossible to get into, and their regard for their animals is at a fiercely high level. If Kraven had not only managed to sneak into Wakanda, but to kill and take one of their beloved panthers-

"A Wakandan panther," his voice repeats by my ear, and I jump with fright, a chill shuddering down my spine as I whirl. Kraven looms over me as I stumble pack a few paces, nearly knocking into the big cat's stuffed form. Jesus, I hadn't even heard the man move.

My eyes are huge and round as I take in the sharp angles of his face, his gleaming, beetle black eyes that are eerily similar to the stuffed trophies littered around us, the thick red scars starting at his cheekbone that travel down past his jaw.

Kraven notices where my eyes have wandered. "Do you see what this prize cost me, _malen'kiy chelovek? _These scars came not from the beast itself, no. From his king. Look at the beast again."

Trembling, I obey.

"Do you see any wounds? Any marks or damage to his fur? His skin?"

I shake my head.

"No. You don't. I do not kill my prey with guns or knives or arrows, the weapons of lesser men. I use these."

I turn back to him, my eyes dropping to his huge outstretched hands, smaller scars littered across his wide, calloused palms. And I have a sudden, horrible image of those palms pressed against my neck, the fingers curling around the base of my skull as they squeeze.

My throat bobs.

"To hunt beasts such as these," Kraven gestures to the plethora of stuffed wildlife around us. "You must understand them. You must become more than a hunter. You must become a predator yourself. And I have. The greatest predator this world has ever seen."

"Then...then hunt the Spiderman," I breathe, trying to regain control of this conversation.

"This isn't a hunt," Kraven growls, looming over me, those huge hands curling into fists. "This is mercenary work. Blood money. There is no honor in it. No grand prize."

"The money-"

"I told you," he seethes. "Your employer's money is filthy. Dishonorable. I do not want it. You have insulted me enough."

For a brief, nauseating moment, I think that Kraven is about to kill me. I flinch as he moves and throw my arms up wildly in a feeble attempt to protect myself. The large man snorts with disgust.

"Pathetic," Kraven turns away from me, heading back to his desk, his boots heavy as they hit the floor. "I live by a code of honor. You and your employer have none, and as such, I have no interest in dealing with you. Get out."

Panting, sweating, I watch in dismay as he walks away. If I go back to Gargan without having secured this deal…

I'm not above begging, however humiliating it will be. Brutal as Kraven is, he does have honor. He won't kill a guest in his home. Gargan is an entirely different story. He doesn't believe in honor. He believes in success and failure. And I cannot fail him again.

So I choose my next words very, very carefully.

"The Wakandan panther, it's your crown jewel, isn't it?" I swallow thickly as he ignores me, but I keep going. "It's an incredible beast. Only the greatest hunter, the greatest predator could have taken him down."

Kraven sinks into his chair, shrouded in shadows once again, his black eyes gleaming as they glare at me.

"How long did it take you to hunt it down and kill it?"

A beat of silence, then, "Five days."

I let out a quivering whistle. "An astonishingly short amount of time, for most men. But you aren't like most men. I'm willing to bet the short length of the hunt must have been so...dissatisfying."

He says nothing.

"And yet this beast is your highest trophy. I have no doubt that it was an incredible hunt. But it's over. What's left to hunt in the world that is greater for you? No mere animal, I-I can tell you that. Imagine hunting something with the ability to think, to reason. Something with advanced strength, advanced speed, that can anticipate your every move, that learns and adapts. That maybe even bests you. The most dangerous animal of all," I dare to take a step closer to him, heart racing. "The ultimate hunt. The ultimate prize. The hunt to beat all other hunts."

Kraven stares at me wordlessly for a long moment, then turns his head.

Dismissed.

My stomach sinks. I don't dare press him further. I've failed, and now...and now…

I turn, walking shakily past the throng of dead animals littering the study, their eyes mocking me.

"I will hunt your Spiderman."

I stiffen, then whirl, hope leaping in my chest. "You-you will? You won't regret it, Kraven, I can assure you of that. My employer will make sure you are compensated beyond your wildest-"

"I told you I do not want your filthy blood money," Kraven growls. "I will hunt. His mask will be my prize, his head, my trophy. Now get. out."

I incline my head, then walk out of the room as fast as my wobbly legs will carry me. My breathing comes too quick, my hands are shaking from the encounter, but I am filled with a giddy sort of exhilaration.

I'd done it. I'd convinced him to get rid of Spiderman. I'd done what Gargan had demanded of me. And even better, Kraven is doing it for free.

Gargan will be pleased.

I will live to see another day.

And Spiderman won't know what hit him.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Welcome back, faithful readers! **

**Ready to start another wild ride with me? It's still So weird to think that this is actually book FOUR in my series. And we aren't even half way done. It's insane. The amount of reviews and support and attention Riders in the Sky got seriously BLEW MY MIND. You guys really know how to make a writer feel appreciated. Without you, this all wouldn't be possible. So a very heartfelt thank you! **

**I saw that you guys enjoyed my little end credits scene for Riders. I had an absolute blast writing the Guardians of the Galaxy for the first time. They will not be making an appearance in this book, but don't worry, the Guardians will return in the CMFU eventually. As will some other Avengers I have not included quite yet. **

**As for this fic, several things. This takes place very shortly after the end of Riders, with the Avengers' return to Earth, Pepper and Tony's upcoming wedding, and the scars/aftermath of the Dravec abduction. I'm scaling this one back down to focus on a handful of main characters instead of the massive cast I was working with for Riders. Which I am really excited about. **

**I know a lot of you were like, wait, what? This fic is called Hunted? Weren't they JUST hunted in Riders in the Sky? **

**Yes. Yes they were.**

**Several of you guessed Kraven would make an appearance, and you were right! Poor Peter Parker isn't quite done being hunted yet, but Kraven is in for the surprise of his life if he thinks Spiderman is going to make it easy for him. Since the MCU likes to take the classic Marvel characters and spin them to fit in a more realistic, edgy world, I will be doing the same, and writing my own take on Kraven, how I imagine the Marvel writers might handle such a character. **

**ALSO! This fic is dedicated to PippinStrange! This is her nearly one year late belated birthday fic! Sorry it took so long to get here, friend! But this one is for you! As such, some of her requests have worked their way into the plot, and I can't wait to share them with you guys. Pip, your writing blows my mind. I may be the Queen of Crystallopia (and cliffhangers) , but you are the Queen of Fanfiction. Your Marvel fics are unmatched, and I am in awe of your brilliant, talented mind. Thank you for letting me be your beta, and for doing me the honor of being mine! I love you!**

**Updates...will not be regular. Sorry, I wish they could be scheduled weekly or biweekly, but since I'm working full time and hardly get any time to write, and I am working on the final draft of my original novel (GUYS I got it back from the editor who LOVED it! SQUEE!), I can't promise prompt or regular updates, but I will do my very best not to make you wait toooooo long between chapters. Some of this book is prewritten, so I hope that will help. **

**As always, I LOVE hearing from my loyal and fabulous review squad, so let me know your thoughts, and I will reply to them at the end of the next chapter in my author's notes!**

***Cracks knuckles* **

**You guys ready for this? **

**-Queen**


	2. Somebody's Watching Me

**Chapter Two: Somebody's Watching Me**

* * *

**...**

**...**

**Peter Parker**

"_How are bacteria classified according to the production of organic material for their energetic metabolisms?" _

"Um…" I duck under the meaty fist shooting towards my face. "Well, most bacteria are heterotrophic."

"What'd you say, punk?" The pissed off would-be mugger growls as he sends two especially aggressive punches towards me. I jump up easily, landing in a crouch on top of a dumpster. His fists slam into the metal with a resounding clang before he jumps back, cursing and yelling in pain, clutching his injured hands.

"Sorry, wasn't talking to you," I say, stepping casually off the dumpster and back onto the ground. "Studying for a test. You know how it is, right man? Microbiology is a bi-woah!"

The mugger is swinging a rusty metal pipe towards my face. I duck under the first blow, then reach up to grab the pipe as he swings it a second time. "Not a science fan, huh? That's ok, it's not for everybody."

"_What about other bacteria?"_ Ned asks, his tinny voice coming from inside my mask.

"Uh, some are autotrophic, like chemosynthetic and photosynthetic bacteria. Photosynthetic-hey, careful with that, you're going to hurt yourself-photosynthetic bacteria use photosynthesis like plants."

I fire off two webs in succession, both of them pinning the guy's hands to the brick wall behind him with a loud thwack. He grunts as he strains to free himself, his arms thrashing wildly. I catch the pipe he'd been swinging at me before it can hit the ground, then twirl it deftly in my hand.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen," I say, jabbing the pipe in the mugger's direction. "Is why you stay in school."

"_Nicely done, Spiderman,_" Ned intones with a grin in his voice. "_Hey, any chance you can bring that pipe by my place? It's like the perfect size for me to make a lightsaber handle for my Mace Windu cosplay."_

"Dude, sick idea," I say appreciatively, holding it out in front of me to examine. He's right, it's totally ideal for a lightsaber. I give it a few swings, twirling and spinning it like I would if I was a Jedi Master, which, if I was in an alternate universe, I so would be. I miss it on the last spin, my hands fumbling for it as one end of the pipe smacks against my head.

"Ow!"

The mugger lets out a derisive snort of laughter, and I fire off another web that covers his mouth. He glares at me over his gag as Ned says, "_Smooth, man_. _If that had been a real saber, you would be toast_."

"Shut up," I say to both of them, setting down the pipe to pick up and uncap the sharpie I'd stuck in one of the slots where my web fluid containers are stored. The mugger growls and shouts at me from behind the web firmly clamping his lips shut as I begin writing across his forehead.

"Hold still," I reprimand. "You're messing me up. There we go!"

I look at my handiwork, slightly sloppy thanks to the mugger's movements, but still legible. "Mugged an old lady" is written in crammed letters across his forehead. "Ooh, wait a sec. I forgot," I scribble "From Spiderman" on his left cheekbone. "There!"

"Hey Karen, let the police know we have a present for them?" I request as I pick up the discarded pipe and shoot off a web to pull myself up onto the roof of the apartment building nearby.

"_On it,_" Karen replies cheerfully.

God, it feels good to be doing this again, to have her assuring voice in my ear, to have all my suit's functions easily accessible. It feels good to be home. I'm never taking Queens for granted again. Or Earth for that matter.

"_Alright, ready for the last question on the study guide?" _

"Hit me," I say, launching myself off the rooftop and free falling for a second before firing a web across the street to a towering billboard, my body easily swinging up, up, and then thump! My feet stick to the enormous coca-cola bottle depicted on the sign, my left hand reaching up to stick to it as my right hangs on to Ned's souvenir pipe.

"_Ok, what is meant when it's said that a bacterium is an obligate anaerobe?"_

"They are living organisms that don't survive in the presence of oxygen," I say easily. "Dude, this test is going to be a breeze."

"_I know. I don't know what Abe was complaining about."_

"He's more of a chemistry guy," I reply as I shoot off another web to swing back across the street, waving to a kid pointing at me and tugging on his mom's jacket. Swinging in a crisscrossing movement back and forth across the street is usually the easiest way to build my momentum. This time I don't let myself land, but fire off another web as my body reaches the highest point of its upward swing.

"_Well, so are we_," Ned points out. "_I think he just likes to complain. You know the other week he was going on and on forever about the increasing price of vending machine snacks?"_

"Ugh," I agree, adding a somersaulting flip midair before pressing my ring and middle fingers to the bottom of my palm. The line shoots off into the distance, snagging on someone's balcony, the line going taut as my body flies through the air. "Yeah, I heard he went on for fifteen minutes about it before MJ shut him up with a statistic about the amount of people without fresh water in Africa."

Ned chortles. "_Yeah, that was awesome." _

Below me, traffic begins to steadily congest as thousands of New Yorkers get off from work to head home. I see the train up in the distance, the tracks steadily curving above the streets beneath it. Hmm maybe I will catch a ride back towards Ned's neighborhood. Traffic means May will probably be home soon, which means I should be too.

"_Speaking of MJ,_" Ned's voice turns sly. "_How's that going?" _

"How's what going?" I ask innocently, changing my course to head towards the train.

"_Uhuh. You are so whipped._"

"I am not!...What does that even mean?"

"_I...actually don't really know. But whatever it is, that's you."_

I roll my eyes even as a sinking feeling pulls on my stomach.

MJ hasn't been texting me much since she left a few days ago for a political rally with her mom. She could be busy...or she could be mad at me still for our disastrous last conversation and the way I hadn't contacted her for weeks beforehand.

To be fair, I'd been kidnapped and dropped in an alien jungle where I'd been hunted like an animal by a Predator-like alien species called the Dravec, but she didn't know that. Because she doesn't know I'm Spiderman. And when I tried to tell her, it...hadn't gone well. Which of course, by that I mean I didn't tell her.

Now I'm forced to wait anxiously for her to get back so we can talk, and I can finally tell her the truth.

"_You're thinking about her right now, aren't you?" _

I scowl under my mask, swinging up and over the ledge of a tall office building to land on its rooftop. "No."

"_Whu-tshhh_," Ned exclaims in an over the top impression of a whip cracking.

It's so ridiculous I let out a laugh, jogging across the rooftop to perch on the ledge.

"Dude, that is not how a whip sounds."

"_How would you know?_"

The smile drops from my face, a chill shuddering through my insides. A whip is the slide of leather against the ground, whispering like a slithering snake. A whip is a whistle of wind slicing the air. A whip is a sharp, violent crack, tearing and searing and burning. I shudder as a phantom pain lances across my back. I know exactly what a whip sounds and feels like, can remember it with outstanding clarity.

Bucky on all fours, the Dravec behind him, its arm raised, and then-

"_Peter? You still there?_"

"Yeah," I give myself a mental shake and eye the tall streetlight I plan to aim my next web at.

A jolt runs through me, a panicked skittering of nerves shooting down my spine, feeling like an army of spiders.

Oh god.

My head whips to the side, spotting the danger immediately, and my body throws itself into action. Without hesitating, I fling myself off the edge of the building, my stomach lurching as I freefall before firing my web. I swing, my muscles tensing as my momentum builds, and at the peak of my arc, I release the line and flip forward once before my feet slam into the asphalt, my body moving into a defensive stance as I throw up my hands, the pipe clattering to the ground.

The red toyota slams into me.

I clench my teeth, digging my legs into the ground as my fingers curl around the metal. I halt the speeding vehicle right in its tracks, the impact forcing me to take one single step back before I heave myself and the car forward.

There's screaming behind me, screaming all around. My lenses narrow on the driver, a man who's maybe in his forties, with several days worth of stubble around his slack jaw, and red rimmed eyes that seem to have trouble focusing.

Anger hits me, swift and hot, but I release the damaged vehicle and whirl.

"Are you okay?" I ask quickly.

The young woman's eyes are wide, shocked, and her chest is heaving with tight, panicked breaths. My eyes move to her white knuckled grip on her stroller, and to the sleeping infant inside.

"Ma'am, are you hurt?" I take a step towards her, my lenses widening as Karen scans both her and the baby, showing no sign of any injury.

More pedestrians are pouring onto the crosswalk, several of them reaching for the woman and repeating my questions. Others have their phones out, a couple of them calling 911. Most, I note with complete disgust, are either videoing or taking pictures.

"Look whachoodid...ta my car, man."

I turn at the slurred voice to see the driver, hands on his head, fingers gripping his thinning hair as he gapes at his wrecked vehicle. "You rrruined it. You...oh man...oh shiiiit."

I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the odor of alcohol oozing off of him. "You're kidding me, right? You nearly killed them! How drunk are you?"

Sirens sound off in the distance.

Drunk guy blinks at me, his brows furrowing in confusion and distress before he turns to start stumbling towards the sidewalk.

A web shoots from my wrist, snatching his arm and yanking him back towards his car. He staggers into it with a grunt, and I fire a more condensed burst of webbing at his wrist and hand to hold him in place against his car. "You're not going anywhere until the police show up, pal," I tell him.

My spidey-sense prickles faintly beneath my skin, all over, making me on edge. I glance around, turning in a half circle, but the vehicles at this intersection are all stopped, and the pedestrians are doing nothing but taking pictures and videos or striding forward to help.

The danger is gone. I stopped the car, saved the civilians.

So why am I still on alert?

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to the ground.

"Crap," I mutter. Ned's metal pipe is warped and bent, half crushed beneath the tire of the car. I turn back to the woman on the crosswalk.

Her baby is now clutched to her chest, and I can see her hands trembling. The woman's glassy green eyes meet mine. "Thank you," she says shakily.

"No problem," I step forward. "You uh...take care."

The sirens grow louder as several police units arrive on the scene. That's my cue to leave. I give them an awkward little salute and shoot a web up towards a far off balcony, swinging up and away.

Scattered cheers and applause break out as I leave, heading once again back towards the train.

"_Dude, that was insane_," Ned says, his voice tight with excitement. "_If you would have been one second later…"_

I shudder, not wanting to think about it.

"_That's going to go viral. Saving babies always goes viral. I mean, so do videos of cats being scared by yodeling pickles, but that's besides the point_."

"Yodeling _pickles_?"

"_It's actually a thing. You can get them on Amazon._"

"Good to know. Isn't your birthday coming up?"

"_Ha-ha_."

I actually make a note of it to get for Cooper's birthday. He'd probably appreciate it, and it would drive Clint absolutely insane, which, bonus.

"_You know, thanks to this sick tech Tony Stark hooked up for me in my room, I can download the footage from the street light cams to get the save from multiple angles. This is SO going to boost my YouTube channel." _

I snort. "Using your powers for good, I see. Mr. Stark would be proud."

"_Hey, he only specified I wasn't allowed to hack into HIS stuff."_

"Hey, sorry about the pipe, man," I say seriously as I finally pull myself up to the tracks. I fire a line to the back of the train, the speed of it lifting me off my feet as I swing alongside the tracks for a moment before lifting myself up to sit on top of it. My feet dangle over the edge as I rest my hands on the metal top of the train.

"_No worries. Just keep an eye out the next time a criminal tries to beat you with one." _

"Can do. Text you later?"

"_Sure, sure. Guy in the chair over and out._"

Leaning back to put my weight on my hands, I yawn beneath my mask and wonder what May is making for dinner. A faint chill tingles across my neck and shoulders, making me shudder.

There's that feeling again.

There is no immediate danger, but something is definitely off, and my body doesn't like it one bit. My eyes and lenses narrow as I cast glances around me, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary. And Karen's sensors aren't picking up anything odd either.

Something's off, like...like something's watching me.

My heartbeat picks up, my breath quickening in my lungs. The tall buildings around me loom, condensing and swelling and darkening as they close in, looking more like towering trees and tangled vines where power lines should be. The streetlights below me glare red.

Red. Red eyes-red lights in the trees-claws reaching for me-

I'marabbit-I'marabbit-I'marabbit-

"_Incoming call from May Parker_."

I jolt, heart hammering as New York settles back around me. Releasing a shuddering breath through my mask, I rub at my forehead, then clear my throat.

"Hey May," I say as evenly as I can as her face pulls up in my lenses' sensors.

"_Hey kiddo. What are you up to_?"

"I'm...on the train back home. Just gotta stop and pick up my backpack on eighth street first," I tell her, cracking my neck from side to side.

"_When you say you're on the train, do you mean you're in it, or you're actually on top of it?"_ May asks with a raise of an eyebrow.

"The second."

"_Ah. Am I going to see anything on the news later that will ruin my otherwise pleasant day?_" her tone shifts to dangerous territory.

"Er...I saved a woman and a baby from being hit by a car," I tell her as casually as I can. "Otherwise, it's been a pretty quiet day."

Aunt May doesn't need to know about the mugger with the pipe. Besides, it wasn't like I was lying. He _had _been quiet once I'd webbed up his mouth.

"_Uhuh. Well, hurry home. I screwed up the first round of teriyaki chicken, but nailed the second. I think. So that means you have a mountain of dishes waiting for you to do them after dinner." _

I stifle a groan. Dishes aren't my least favorite chore, but scraping burned bits off of pots and pans are a task and a half for me. If I don't scrub hard enough, nothing happens, but if I put too much pressure, my hand punches through the bottom of the pot.

May had not been pleased the last time I'd ruined one of her brand new le crueset pans she'd just gotten as a very generous Christmas present from Mr. Stark.

"_Yes, Aunt May. Thank you, Aunt May. I'm exceedingly grateful for all that you do, Aunt May,_" she intones for me.

"Thank you, Aunt May," I reply dryly with a roll of my eyes. "Be home soon."

"Hey, are you ok? You sound a little off."

I wince. Shit. "Yeah, I'm good. I just...uh...it was a close call. With the lady and her baby. That's all."

No need to worry her just yet.

"_I'm proud of you, kid. Larb you." _

"Larb you, too."

I lay back on the train, covering my masked face with my hands.

Karen chooses that moment to speak. "_My sensors show an increase in blood pressure and shortness of breath, indicating the beginnings of an anxiety attack_. _Are you alright, Peter?"_

"You already sent the info to Mr. Stark, didn't you?"

"_As per protocol. Yes. Studies suggest that putting your head between your knees and taking deep breaths can help."_

"Thanks, Karen," I sigh.

All things considered, it's a freaking miracle my PTSD is as mild as it is. Sam says people can suffer way more severe side effects from experiencing less in life.

Buried beneath a warehouse. Fighting my girlfriend's dad on a jet plane. Getting kidnapped and tortured by Hydra. Injected and possessed by Venom. Abducted and then hunted by aliens.

All before my sixteenth birthday. Yeesh. No wonder I'm as screwed up as I am. Still, could be worse. And hopefully from now on, things will start going a little better for me. Hopefully. Somehow, I have a sneaking suspicion that fate is laughing at that particular thought of mine.

I let out another sigh, putting my hands under my head. I'd hoped to mess around with the Nintendo 64 I'd found at a junk shop tonight, but it looks like that's out of the picture with the chores and homework I still have left.

Oh well.

Maybe I'll text MJ after dishes, see if she responds.

The prickling at the base of my neck intensifies for a brief moment, causing me to stiffen and sit up, looking wildly around me. But then the feeling is gone.

I shiver, scrubbing at the back of my neck.

I'm being paranoid. It's just residual crap from my time with the Dravec. My spidey senses haven't adjusted back to normal life yet. That's all.

That's...that's all.

* * *

**A/N:**

***Mrs. Doubtfire voice* Helloooooooo!**

**YOU GUYS! You broke my fanfiction records! 63 reviews on the opening chapter? I can't even right now! SOBS! Like holy fuh-reaking crap. 63 reviews. I still can't believe it. I am in awe of you guys and so incredibly thankful. The review replies are going to end up being as long as the chapters themselves! LOL!**

**I do apologize for the length between updates. Wish I could say it won't happen again, but between working full time, meeting the love of my life, moving out into my own place, and all the craziness that is my life, I don't think I've written more than a handful of words in MONTHS. It's been so painful having all this creativity and no time for an outlet! But I can't complain too much, because it really has been great. Just busy. **

**Speaking of! I am typing this to you on my brand new laptop! (Courtesy of the new boyfriend. OH MY WORD I FOUND SUCH A GREAT GUY! SQUEE!) **

**Anywho, that's probably way too much about my personal life. **

**I am still beyond excited for this fic and all the upcoming ones in the CMFU. NO, I will not abandon this fic or this series, no matter how far apart updates are. YES, I will be sticking it through and finishing it until the very end! So don't worry! It just may take me awhile. But when I'm not drowning in the craziness that is my life, I am busy thinking up a million scenes and scenarios for this fic and all upcoming fics. **

**Special thanks as always to my beta and inspiration, PippinStrange! If you guys haven't read her work, I would strongly advise that you head over to her page. Not only are her fics incredible, but she posts WAY more regularly and quickly than I do! LOL! My current obsession is Into Oblivion, a Marvel take on the Lord of the Rings that feels more canon than canon! It's absolutely amazing and you cannot freaking miss it. Her other works are out of this world good, in character, hilarious, action packed, edge of your seat, gasp aloud, sob with how AWESOME they are. SO go give her some love and enjoy some high quality fanfiction!**

* * *

lovecandies4ever: Thank you so much! I'm excited as well! :D

JuliaApril: Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

Heroes21: AHHHH...maybe. Lol.

.Seven: Gah thank you! Lots of fun things to expect in this fic!

StarStepper: LOL! I am too! :D

Puppens101: Lol! Don't fall off the bed! XD Peter is definitely not going to take this lying down that's for sure. ;)

precious831: Thank you very much!

Lilyflower58925: THank you! Yeah, Peter doesn't get much of a break in my fics. Poor kid. In this case, Gargan has a grudge against Spiderman, and his own attempts to bring him down have proved fruitless. Enter Kraven. ;) It's gonna be wild!

cargumentluv: LOL! Dude that cracked me up! I know the feeling! ;) XD

Up-In-The-Clouds1285: Thanks!

PippinStrange: FRIEND! I posted a chapter! LOL! It's been waaaaaaay too long. This fic is all for you pal! You amaze me and inspire me everyday!

Mojomonster: Eee! Glad to hear it! Sorry about the wait!

trucejopseh: He's a great one isn't he? SO excited to do my interpretation of him!

LoonyLovegood1981: Hello pal! I'm so happy to be back! Even if it's not as often as I want to be back! lol. It'll be awhile before I get published, IF I do, but I will definitely keep you guys updated!

RedHood001: Thanks! Excited to use Kraven, and while this will be a Peter centric fic, there will definitely be other Avengers involved!

Alisha: Thanks!

DarylDixon'sLover: For sure

Tightpants182: Gah thank you! Taxidermy creeps me the hell out too. Kraven is a real piece of work. Peter is in for it, that's for sure.

tbex27: Thank you!

TheAmazingRedX: Wow! Twice! Thank you! :D

Cindercat: Ahh thanks! You're the best!

Guest: Awww you are so sweet! Thank you!

Lailuh: Thanks! SO happy to hear that you're enjoying!

Krystal Fox: Me too!

Clara Brighet: SQUEE! Your review made my day! "HUNTED IS OUT!" Gahhhh you guys! Your fangirling KILLS me! I love hearing about your texts! Seriously thank you guys so much!

purpleflame2: Heck yes! Me too!

icotnoir: No he cannot! lol

Guest: Thank you so much! I love incorporating stuff from the comics and other media and try to interpret it like the MCU would but with my own spin :D

CrisStarTina: Done! :D

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: ;)

QueenBookDragon: Hey there fellow Queen. I can't believe how fast you read my series! Wow! Thank you for doing that! Also so happy to hear how much you like my work! I had not previously read The Most Dangerous Game before starting this fic, but had heard of it. After reading your review, I downloaded the audible version and YEESH. SO freaking creepy. Will definitely be incorporating some easter eggs and themes from that book. ;)

Celeste621: Thanks Celeste! Peter definitely has a lot of trauma to work through. Luckily he has a lot of help, and the fact that he's so young will of course be working in his favor.

carajiggirl: Thank you for reviewing! It means the world to me!

monkeybaby: Yay!

NZ Guest: We probably won't be seeing any Asgardians in this one, but I'm not ruling it completely out. ;)

Kirby Lane: Lol! Thank you very much! The large ensemble was definitely a challenge that I very much enjoyed, but I am super excited to scale it down. Not that there won't be PLENTY of Avengers showing up throughout. Bucky will definitely be involved as he's somehow become a part of Peter's core group. I still can't believe how that happened, since I never actually planned for it when I started writing Paint it Black!

maili-chan: Thanks so much! That makes me so happy to read! Still lots more to come!

NCC-1701-Z: Gah thank you! He is super fun to write. Villains always are. ;)

Thebookworm33: I have not read The Most Dangerous Game actually! Or, I hadn't until after I posted chapter one, and then I got a couple reviews referring to it, so I downloaded it on audible and gave it a listen to. SO CREEPY. YIKES! Glad I did! Will definitely be leaving some easter eggs and references throughout! THanks SO MUCH for your amazing review! I'm so glad you loved RIders! and how often you've read this series! WOW! THANK YOU!

Chocolate369: You don't have to apologize at all! ANy and every review I get is super appreciated! I am super excited for the future encounters and how the two will play this out. There will definitely be plenty of Avengers in this fic, even if they won't be focused on as much as the last fic. Sam will play a big role, as will Tony, Happy, Pepper, Bucky, and a few more. ;) Thanks so much for reviewing! I so appreciate it!

skullcandyklive: Ok so this question had me scouring the web for hours unable to find exactly who I pictured as Kraven. Closest I could find was Liev Schreiber, only with darker hair and a fuller beard. His Russian accent is pretty great, and he is an intimidating guy. :)

EleanorGardner: Thanks!

Serafina Moon: Thanks so much!

twlght: Me too!

Treblemkr: Gosh thank you very much!

Joanna Boer: Thanks!

NyxieDust: OMG your review though! Thank you so so so so much! I so appreciate it! I will definitely try to update whenever I can! I miss writing and reading fanfiction so much you have no idea!

momocandy2: LOL! Thank you!

seireidoragon: Eeee thanks! :D

lucyolympus17: It's gonna be so fun!

BrieferCat: Thanks! :)

Verinorina: LOL! Poor Peter. XD It does have potential!

Shannon O'Gorman: Gosh thank you so very much! The Sinister Six and Kingpin are SUPER intimidating. I don't know if I'll include them in this series, but would love to write them someday! Lots of big time and intimidating villains coming up in the CMFU, including another original and very different take on a Spiderman villain.

gandalf537: Thanks!

AllTheFandomsForever: ME TOO!

smolpeter: Thanks so much! Good luck with your training! Hope to have more for you to read when you get back!

Abigailga: Thanks!

AppleSpongeCake: Good lord I forgot how violent your threats can be. XD

Guest: Yo thank you

Evelris: Eeeee! Thank you very much! So excited!

NW nightwalker Hp: Me too! ;)

gamma1243: Ok, so your review made my life. Nearly made me cry. And definitely made me read it several times with the biggest grin on my face. Those are the kind of reviews that gives us writers fuel to write and inspiration to keep going. I am so ridiculously honored that you went through my series and thought so highly of it. Your kind words made my heart so happy, you have no idea. A lot of love, sweat, tears, blood, the whole shebang goes into this series, and when people take the time to leave me reviews like that because they love it as much as I do, it seriously gives me the major feels. I fangirled over your fangirling SO hard! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Seriously. Can't say it enough. Thank you for blessing me with your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that the rest of the series lives up to your expectations!

* * *

**Unbelievable. I am still just so blown away by the amount of reviews and kind words. You guys don't even know how much it means to me and how much it inspires me to keep going. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truly. **

**Also, no new updates on my original novel, other than now that I have a higher quality computer, I can hopefully break some ground on that final draft as well as outline the sequel!**

**Hopefully it won't be as long until the next update, but in case that it is, I apologize in advance and thank you for all the reviews and support! LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**COMING UP: **

**Weekends are spent at the Avengers compound training and meeting for sessions with Sam Wilson to work through Peter's PTSD from all the horrors he's experienced in the past year alone. Are Peter's spider senses going haywire from residual trauma? Or is there an unseen threat lurking in the shadows? **


	3. Welcome to the Jungle

**Chapter Three: Welcome to the Jungle**

* * *

**...**

**...**

**-Peter Parker-**

"On your left," I say as I jog up beside Sam on the track outside the Avengers facility.

He gives me a sharp look. "What did you just say?" he demands.

I step back at his tone. "Er- Cap told me to say it."

Sam rolls his eyes and curses under his breath, muttering something about damn super soldiers. "Alright, get your ass moving," he says, eyes narrowed, and I don't dare argue.

The air is crisp and cold this early, but by the afternoon the chill will give way to a warm, bright spring day. But Sam likes to run at dawn, and so, Midtown tech sweatshirt zipped all the way up, I follow him along the track.

I yawn hugely, keeping pace beside him, trying to blink the sleep from my eyes. I don't think anyone's told Sam how much sleep teenagers require to function.

"How'd you do this week?"

I shrug, sneakers pounding lightly on the rubberized track. "Got an A on my science test. Saved a lady and her baby from being hit by a car."

"And almost had a panic attack afterwards?"

I scowl at the still gray sky. "Karen's a tattletale."

"How bad was it?"

"Not bad. Only lasted a few minutes. May called and broke me out of it."

"Any idea what the trigger was?"

We keep a steady pace, light, easy, though both of us could run faster. Me, a lot faster.

"My senses were going off. But there wasn't anything wrong. It's like...I could have sworn someone was watching me."

Saying it sounds dumb. I'm a superhero dressed in red and blue and was sitting on top of a very public train. Of course someone was watching me.

"Your body went into fight or flight," Sam surmises.

"It started to, I guess. I don't know if I would have been able to shake it."

The track curves, and our bodies follow it, my breath coming out in white puffs in front of my face.

"So there was no danger?"

"No. I mean...I don't think so? None that I could see. I think it was just...me. Residual...stuff," I finish lamely.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, kid. But that's pretty normal," Sam says, moving the pace a little faster. "You were hunted like an animal. That's going to stick with you for awhile."

I shoot him a desperate look. "Yeah, but for how long? I can't exactly have a panic attack mid fight or-or _worse_, at school!"

"That's entirely up to your brain. You just gotta learn the triggers, learn the coping mechanisms. If you know what sets you off, you can work around it, and if you know the methods, you can work through them faster."

"But that's the thing! I don't even know what triggered that one! It felt completely random! One minute, I'm riding the train, heading home, the next, my body is sure that I'm in danger, that I'm being watched. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Sam thinks for a moment as we jog back towards the facility, rounding another curve on the track.

"What you're already doing," he says unhelpfully.

"I so value our talks. They're super informative," I shoot him a look.

Sam smirks. "Watch the tone, smartass. Look, you went through some major trauma. It's not the sort of thing you can just wish away. So you try and get back to your normal, and you go on runs with your favorite Avenger and talk instead of stuffing all the dark and twisty deep down, and eventually your body realizes you're not in constant danger anymore. Just...occasional life threatening situations."

I sigh, jogging even faster as Sam ups the pace again. "This sucks."

"I like hanging out with you too."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. But like I said, kid, it's part of the job. Being a superhero isn't all glory and kissing babies."

I peer at him. "Have you ever kissed a baby as Falcon? Is that a thing?"

"Not as Falcon, no. You can bet your ass Steve has as Cap though."

I smirk at the image that brings. Cap definitely seems like the one who waves at the masses of patriotic citizens, kissing babies and catching swooning women.

"Tell me about the panic attack."

"Do I have to?"

"Kind of defeats the purpose of our little talks if you don't."

"I felt like I was in danger. My body was telling me that I was, like when I'm about to be attacked or if there's a threat nearby. And then...then it was like I couldn't catch my breath. My vision started going a little funky."

"Funky how? A bunch of fuzzy gray dots creepin' in from the corners?"

"No…" Somehow this part is harder to admit. Just talking about it has my stomach twisting like I swallowed a bunch of snakes from the science lab and they just aren't having it. "Everything was sort of closing in on me. Getting big and close and dark...I could...I could see the jungle. It's like I was back there."

Sam lets out a whistle of sympathy. "Not exactly a vacation spot, was it? We talkin' full blown hallucination or more of a mind's eye sort of situation?"

I shoot him a look, brows creasing. "If I say the first one, you gonna fit me for a straitjacket?"

"How do you feel about white?"

At my widening eyes, he adds, "I'm kidding. Again, we've all been there, kid. Flashbacks to the event of major trauma are normal. As is association, some hallucinating, nightmares, the works."

Sweat slips down my back. "If...if I were to stop...being Spiderman," I say slowly, heart hammering even at the thought. "Would it go away? Like, if I wasn't in life threatening situations, would I stop flashing back to what happened with the Dravec? With Venom?"

Sam's pace slows, and I follow suit. "If there wasn't any danger nearby, and you still slipped into fight or flight, the odds of avoidance helping with your symptoms are slim. Not that I would advise it regardless. It's best to face these things head on. Keep to your daily life, and talk to me, goose."

"But it will go away, right?" I ask, breathing hard. "The flashbacks and anxiety and stuff?"

"It can," Sam says carefully. "Some people get rid of their symptoms entirely. Some people's decrease, and they learn to live with the ones that linger. In your case, you're young, so you have that going for you. You also have a lot of support, and you're doing great talking about it and keeping active."

He stops, turning to face me. "I just need you to be honest with me. Let me know if there are unusual mood swings, a lack of emotion entirely, hyperarousal-"

"Hyper-_what now?"_

"Not like that," Sam snorts. "The jitters. Keyed up, easily startled, always on alert. I'm talking more than just a flashback that leads into fight or flight. When you're always looking over your shoulder and jumping at every sound. That kind of thing."

"Oh," I scratch the back of my head. "Got it. That's...less awkward than I thought."

"Hey, fellas."

My head whips around, heat flooding my cheeks and ears at the sight of Natasha Romanoff striding towards us from the compound, dressed in workout gear with her red hair braided back.

Oh god. "You think she uh-caught the tail end of that conversation?" I whisper in horror to Sam.

"World's most dangerous spy," he smirks. "What do you think?"

I think I want to die. Natasha reaches us and puts her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. "Didn't you hear the bell ring, Wilson? Psychology 101 is over. It's time for P.E."

"I was just getting him warmed up for you," Sam shoots back. "Though he might need a snack and some juice before you and Barnes run him through the ringer."

"Haha, we're all laughing," I say, rolling my shoulders as I follow a smirking Natasha back towards the compound. "Like you guys haven't completely overdone the school jokes already."

"You hear that, Sam?" calls Natasha over her shoulder. "We need some new material."

"I'll make it my number one priority. Hey, Pete!"

I glance back.

"You text me. Night or day. I'm here."

My lips curve into a small, appreciative smile, and some of the tension goes out of my shoulders. "Thanks, man."

* * *

The forearm crushing my throat is unyielding. I scrabble against the hold, against the weight on my back and the limbs wrapped around my body, but the lack of oxygen and the horrible burning completely wipes out any memory of the moves I'd just learned to escape.

I frantically tap on the arm, and it immediately loosens, the legs hooked around my middle separating as Natasha slips from my back.

"You panicked," Bucky says unhelpfully.

I shoot him a dirty look as I rub my throat and take in air. "You think?"

"Do I need to go over the steps again?" Natasha asks, not even slightly breathless from the exercise as she circles around to face me.

"No...no I got it. It was just faster than I expected."

"Your enemies aren't exactly going to take their time. I thought your senses warned you before attacks," Bucky crosses his arms. The guy is actually kind of merciless when it comes to training. And here I thought he had a soft spot for me. "There should be plenty of time for you to act before she even gets you in the hold."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get it next time," I roll my shoulders and crack my neck side to side, eyeing Natasha suspiciously for any sign of a surprise attack. "Ok, I'm ready."

"I have a better idea," Bucky strides for the console jutting out from the wall.

Natasha raises a brow. "You sure he's up for that?"

Oh that can't be good.

"Up?" I squeak. "Up for what?"

"I learn best being thrown in the thick of it," Bucky says, not looking over his shoulder as his fingers tap on the console's screen. "I'm willing to bet he will too."

"Uhhh objection?" I wave my arms. "We did this test in class about learning styles, and 'in the thick of it' was most definitely not an option. I'm more of a visual learner? Maybe we could throw Black Widow at you a few times, and I can watch her choke you out until I get it."

"Been there. Done that."

"Wait, what?"

"Get ready," Natasha advises, backing away with one of her terrifying smirks.

"For _what?!"_

Thick metal shutters start sliding down the massive floor to ceiling windows to my left, and a voice overhead declares, "Commencing training sequence 4-730A."

Above, high along the beams of the training gymnasium, lights whir into action, dimming the overheads as thin blue beams crisscross like something out of a Marshmelo concert. They scan along the room, the beams widening into shafts that blind me enough to raise my hand and cover my eyes.

I hear the hiss and chug of hydraulics beneath the shifting of metal plates, and when I finally lower my arm, I gape.

I'm in the middle of New York City.

Well, a rather demolished, desolate, ghost town version of it. Chills scrape along my nerves, and I get the vaguest sense that I've been here before, like... like maybe I dreamed it.

"What the...guys? Guys?" I turn slowly, taking in the towering skyscrapers, the shattered windows, the heaps of concrete rubble and abandoned vehicles. Holy crap, this virtual reality tech is _insane_. There's even a breeze rustling my hair, smelling of smoke and hot dogs.

I'm so blown away by how _real _everything feels that I almost miss the attack. Hairs stand straight up, and then I'm throwing myself to one side, ducking low beneath a metal fist before latching onto a wrist and twisting the arm hard away from me.

"Ha!" I say triumphantly. "Got-"

Bucky's other hand jabs into my ribs hard enough to wind me, and as I choke he wrenches his other arm free. Metal fingers reach for my throat, and I slam the arm away with my forearm, dodging another brutal jab.

He goes down on his knee, spinning as he puts his weight on one side and kicks out at me with a steel toed boot he most definitely was not wearing a second ago.

I dodge, leaping up into the air and kicking off his knee to backflip mid air and land on the roof of a crushed red prius.

"What the-how come you get all suited up in V.R. and I don't?" I demand, staring at his kevlar-reinforced jacket and masked face.

He stares, and my spine prickles.

I spin off the vehicle, flipping once before skidding on the cracked asphalt several yards away. My eyes shoot to the damaged prius, sure that Natasha is going to be crouched where I just stood, sure that my senses warned me right.

There's no one there.

Dread yawns deep in my gut as I realize Bucky is also missing. My heart is hammering, a cold sweat that has nothing to do with physical exertion erupting along my clammy skin.

Chill out, Parker. This is a training exercise. These are your friends. There's no danger. Nothing to be-

Bucky appears out of the shadows way too close, his fists flying and flat palms jabbing in moves too fast for me to counter as I'm herded backwards, dodging half and blocking the rest. He's terrifyingly fast, not holding back an inch as his hard eyes narrow on me.

"Cut-it-out!" I pant, trying and failing to flip back out of reach, but he keeps moving in closer, faster than I can keep up with.

And where the hell is-

A weight slams into my back from above, panic spearing my insides as legs deftly hook around my waist, one arm slipping beneath my armpit and jerking my own arm in an awkward angle just as another crushes against my windpipe.

The blow is hard enough, quick enough that I immediately can't breathe, and for a moment my vision blurs, the buildings around me darkening, swelling, moving.

A flash of red-

NO.

I seize the wrist near my throat with my one good hand, twisting hard and pulling down towards my chest. Air rushes into my throat, but the weight is still there, limbs constricting around me and leaving me with only one good hand as Bucky rushes toward me.

My fingers tighten around that slender wrist, and then with a hoarse cry, I'm throwing myself forward, bending in half as I wrench that weight over my head.

It's gone, and I'm free, and Natasha is plowing into Bucky, both going down in a tangle of limbs as I breathe hard.

"I think he got it."

"No shit."

"You ready to go again, kid?"

"What-again? But I just nailed it!" I protest between breaths.

"Could just be lucky. Better to pound the lesson into you over and over until it becomes second nature," says Bucky.

"You have got to get out more." A thought occurs to me. "How in depth is this V.R.?"

"How do you mean?" asks Natasha.

"I mean . . . can it make anything? Like are there training bots that can be manipulated through visual effects to look like anyone? I'm not gonna lie . . . if you tell me I can fight Kylo Ren or the Terminator, the level of nerd fanboying I'll hit will be record breaking."

Natasha grins, clearly amused, while Bucky looks both confused and like he wants to facepalm right now.

"The enemy robotic training sequence is still in early design phases, or so I'm told," Natasha says. "Stark says it's not ready. That, and he's not thrilled with the acronym ERTS."

I perk up, all exhaustion from the fight dissipating in an anticipatory rush. "When's the last time anyone tested it?"

"Not since before the Dravec fiasco. Tony mentioned some minor bugs, but Steve came out looking a little . . . "

"Burnt?" supplies Bucky.

"We have to try it."

"No."

"Guys, come on! It's clearly in need of testing, and who better than us? Mr. Stark has to have made adjustments to whatever errors there were in the program by now. So we see if it works!"

To my surprise and delight, Natasha looks tempted as she arches a brow in Bucky's direction. "Could be interesting."

"Could be stupid," Bucky says pointedly. "There's no Tony or Bruce to run the program from the outside and shut it down if things go horribly wrong. Which Peter's here, so they will."

"I resent that," I say cheerfully. "I'll shoot Sam a text. He can be on backup. Just in case."

"This is dumb," Bucky sighs, then rubs his face. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Yes!" I quickly text Sam, though I highly doubt we will need his help. "Please tell me we can fight Darth Vader."

Natasha lifts her forearm, turning it to face her, and as she does, a small holographic screen blinks into existence just above it, casting her features in blue light. A few taps with her finger, and she says, "As far as I understand it, F.R.I.D.A.Y. analyzes the situation and personalizes it to each combatant in order to challenge them and build their skill level. We'd have to be on the outside to make any manual changes."

"So it's a crapshoot." Bucky shifts on his feet, readying himself for battle.

"Basically," Natasha meets both of our eyes. "Here we go."

Darth Vader-Darth Vader-Darth Vader-

There's a deep rumble, a shifting and a hiss, and then the sky above us is darkening to a starless night, the unsteady light from the demolished buildings changing the atmosphere to something even more unsettling than it was before.

Together, the three of us move so we are in a loose circle, back to back as our eyes scan the shadowy ruins of the city.

"Holy shit," I breathe. "This is insane."

"Is it working?" asks Bucky.

Natasha's holographic screen blinks out as she rolls her shoulders. "Far as I know. I have an emergency shut off ready just in case."

"Five bucks says we'll need it."

"Ten says only you will need it."

"You're on."

"Can I bet?" I ask.

"No gambling until you're eighteen."

My skin prickles like someone just dragged a fingernail along the side of my neck, and my head whips to the left, eyes narrowing on the space between two buildings. The alley is drenched in shadow, impossible to see through.

"There," I whisper. Any second now a red lightsaber is going to light up that darkness. And then, to my complete exhilaration, a red glow pulses from deep within the alley.

OH my freaking god.

Bucky and Natasha shift on either side of me as we ready ourselves. There's movement. I'm practically hopping from foot to foot as I get ready to charge.

Except it isn't Kylo Ren or Darth Vader that emerges from the alleyway.

My blood turns to ice, and I feel it all drain from my face to pool in my suddenly heavy feet.

"Fuck," hisses Bucky, and Natasha sucks in a breath.

It's a Dravec hunter.

Easily ten feet, it steps forward, spear in hand, black armor gleaming. It's face, horrifically familiar and perfect in every single detail, glares at me over a half mask, promising a slow and painful death.

My pulse is drilling into me, too fast and hard to count, and the ground feels soft and unsteady, like my knees will buckle at any moment.

"Shut it down," demands Bucky, voice hard and unrecognizable. "Shut it down, now."

It's staring me down. It remembers how I disfigured it with a brand beneath that mask. It remembers how I humiliated it and brought it low.

"NAT. NOW."

"I'm-"

There's a sharp inhale, a grunt, and movement spikes to my right. Bucky is cursing again, and I feel wind at my back as boots scrape on gravel and blows ricochet off of armor. But I can't look away from the predator ahead of me.

The Dravec cocks its head to the side.

It charges.

My skin erupts into electrifying terror, wiping my mind blank, and my body is moving, though I'm not sure how, because I didn't tell it to.

It's suddenly towering over me, a burning spear jabbing for my shoulder, but I'm dropping beneath it, aware of the heat blooming across my head. The spear spins, twisting faster than it should be able to, stabbing down for my upturned face.

I'm rolling, darting between its legs, somersaulting and bolting up to my feet, and then I'm running, running like hell, running like I've never run before-

Fingers curl into my collar, material cutting suddenly into my throat as I'm lifted off my feet and yanked back. Limbs flailing for purchase, I stagger into an armored chest, and a clawed hand is shoving towards my face, a black wrist blade unsheathing with a _shhhhink _of sound.

I jerk to the right, my shirt tearing as I barely dodge the knife. I'm turning with the momentum, grabbing the back of the gauntleted forearm with both hands, and shoving the exposed blade into the Dravec's chest.

The hissing amphibian shriek spears through my body, rattling me so thoroughly I stumble back, tripping over debris and landing hard on the rubble.

Can't breathe-can't breathe-

It yanks its hand away from its chest, a horrible squelching sound emerging as the blade rips free. There's a commotion far behind it, my only hope for help trapped in their own battle, because the Dravec far outnumber us, because they are faster and stronger and ruthless, and we're all going to die.

I'm scrabbling away, gravel grinding into my palms and making my shoes slip and skid. I can't get up, I can't run because I'm shaking like I've been electrocuted.

The Dravec's steps are even and hard. A predator confident in its kill.

I'm a rabbit-I'm a rabbit-I'm a rabbit-

It lifts its spear, spinning it casually, deftly in its hands, savoring the kill. The top of my head slams into upturned concrete, my desperate escape cut off in abrupt pain.

The Dravec hunter jerks forward, stumbling, and there's a choked sound muffled by its mask. We both glance down to the metal shard poking out of its chest, and then the alien is falling limply forward.

My breath is punched out of my lungs as the body collapses on top of me, the weight more than I expect, and those wide, black, red-pupiled eyes are an inch from mine, staring, just staring-

The sounds coming out of my throat are ragged and foreign as my scraped hands frantically try to slip between our chests to find purchase, to shove it off of me, but it's so heavy and I'm shaking and I can't get a grip and oh god it's staring at me and-

Air shoves its way back into my throat as the body is wrenched away, and a metal hand is reaching down.

My senses are screaming, drowning in danger, and my knees are suddenly pressing into my chest a split second before I'm kicking out, both of my feet colliding with a solid figure in a violent kick.

I'm looking at nothing but black sky, and suddenly there are beads of blue light piercing through the dark. Too uniformed and spread out to be stars, and they're multiplying, flickering into life, spreading and rippling as the whole visual shudders, blinks, then-

There's a ceiling above me. Smooth floor below. My head is pressed against a wall.

Hydraulics are hissing, metal is shuddering, and sunlight pours into the gymnasium, bright and warm and unmistakable.

I sit up, head swimming, and I find that I can't swallow.

Bucky is on his back, a hand to his chest, but he's pushing to his feet with a groan. Natasha is sprinting toward me, her red hair slipping from its braid as she kneels down with a worried expression.

"You ok?" she asks, reaching for me.

It takes all my willpower not to flinch. "Yeah. Yeah I'm-that was-I'm good. I-I'm . . . holy _shit._"

"I'm sorry," Natasha says grimly. "I never would have encouraged that If I thought for a second-"

"It was my idea," I reassure her hoarsely, taking her offered hand and getting to my feet. My chest is aching. I look down at the broken robot, speared through by debris. It kind of resembles one of Mr. Stark's suit, but the design is slimmer, more basic, its broken form lined with dots and shapes that remind of me of mocap suits from special effects movie stuff.

Bucky kicks aside the remains of another dismembered robot as he heads for us.

"Sorry," I tell him. "That was stupid. I didn't mean to just . . . I lost it, a little back there. I'm-"

He holds up a hand, and my eyes zero in on the slight trembling of his fingers. Maybe I'm not the only one haunted by the events of our space venture. "That sucked."

I blow out a shaky breath. "Yeah."

"How is it even able to program a Dravec in that simulation?" Bucky demands.

Natasha frowns. "Like I said, F.R.I.D.A.Y. scans all the combatants and runs the session accordingly. I don't think Dravec were prefigured as one of the enemy options."

There's a slight vibration in my pocket, and I nearly jump out of my skin before I yank my phone out and avoid the gazes of my teammates.

I have a lot of text notifications.

Sam: _You guys are doing what now? _

_I thought ERTS was too experimental. _

_Bad idea, Parker. Who's chaperoning this? Bucky? _

_I'm going on record here that I think this is a bad idea. _

"On your left."

"GEEZ!" I jump again, nearly dropping my phone as my heart rate spikes at the unexpected voice over my shoulder.

Sam stands there, arms folded and brow raised as he surveys the sparking remains of Mr. Stark's training bots and our sweaty, bedraggled forms. "So. How'd it go?"

"How do you think?" deadpans Bucky.

Natasha pushes strands of hair out of her face. "It could have gone better. I didn't think the combat personalization would be so . . . personal."

I wince. "Leave it to Mr. Stark to make the tech version of a boggart."

Bucky stares.

"Harry Potter? No?" I shake my head. "And you guys say _I _need training."

Sam puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "You good?"

I know he's referring to my anxiety, which, if I'm being honest, is not doing too great right now. My brain knows I'm out of danger, that I was never really in danger in the first place, but my body is in complete denial. God, the whole experience was so rattling, I swear I can almost smell the humid musk of the jungle, the metallic tang of their dark blood . . .

"I'm good."

"How about we break for lunch?" Natasha offers. "I'd kill for a peanut butter sandwich."

Sam's shoulder knocks against mine. "Come on. Nat makes the best sandwiches. I bet she'll even cut the crusts for you."

"Only kids don't eat the crusts."

"I don't eat the crusts," says Natasha.

"Oh. Cool. No crusts for me either then."

We head out of the gymnasium, me trying to pretend that the cold and clammy sweat dripping down my neck and back is from the workout and not from residual fear. Bucky turns abruptly down the hall to our right.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a word with Stark."

I stop, staring after him worriedly, but Sam steers me forward. "Sandwiches, remember? Stark can handle Bucky."

"We sure they won't kill each other?" I ask, looking over my shoulder.

"Mostly," Natasha shoots me a small smirk.

"Great."

I rub at my shoulder, pretending to massage a strained muscle for a moment before I surreptitiously press against the spot on my chest just above my heart. An anchor, grounding me in this moment. The company helps, as does the copious amount of sunlight pouring into the hall.

Slowly, much slower than I want it to, my pulse returns to normal levels, and it gets a little easier to breathe.

And by the time I am shoving peanut butter sandwiches down my throat, I almost feel normal.

Almost.

* * *

**A/N:**

**On your left. :D**

**Hello my lovelies. Oh, how I miss you! **

**Let me start off by apologizing for the wait. And then add that Endgame absolutely BROKE me. I legit left the theater shell shocked and grieving, but also with the mindset like, "Ok. My turn, now." So as much as I loved Endgame and Far From Home, the direction they went in broke my heart enough that as ridiculous as it is, the CMFU has now become canon in my head. Lol. I'm going to live in my delusions for awhile, thank you very much. **

**Update on my original novel! I finished the third and hopefully final draft after revising all the edits from my editor, so I'm hoping to get one more round of feedback from some beta readers I selected before trying to find an agent! Super excited and happy with how far it's come! I will keep you guys updated on its progress!**

**I also will just keep apologizing for the length in between updated chapters. As much as I would love to vow a new chapter a week, I'm so busy, it's just not feasible. But never fear! I still have big plans for this universe and my series is nowhere near complete. I'm going to finish it even if it kills me. lol. **

**A huge thank you as always to the best beta ever, PippinStrange. Your fangirling and support and impeccable writing are all my inspiration, and I absolutely adore you. I MISS WRITING AND UPDATING WITH YOU SO MUCH! HOW DID OUR LIVES GET SO BUSY? But seriously guys, if you are in need of fics during my long updates, check out her work. You will not regret it. **

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who takes the time to review. I read each and every single one of them and appreciate them more than you can ever know! Welcome to all my new readers who have recently discovered this series! And a fond hello to all my returning reviewers! I adore my review squad, and you guys amaze me with the sheer number of reviews you leave for me even though I'm not able to update regularly. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!**

* * *

Heroes21: LOL! I will do my best! Glad you like it so much!

DarylDIxon'sLover: Thanks!

monkeybaby: thank you!

cargumentluv: Thank you so much! I love writing the dynamic between Peter and Ned. I love their banter and their friendship so so much!

Nerdalier: I love you too! Lol! I will try to write as often as I can!

purpleflame2: LOL

.Seven: Ahhhh LOL! Glad you liked it!

StarStepper: I'm so excited too! I miss this universe!

Verinorina: I looooove writing Sam. He is so fun!

Lailuh: Glad you enjoy!

LoonyLovegood1981: Aw thank you so much!

Leiah Cloud: Wow! Can't believe it has been that long! Here's to many more years of fanfiction! I'm so glad you've stuck with me! And thank you so much! I'm hoping to go through a traditional publishing house, so hopefully I can have some international sales! :D

PippinStrange: GURL. I MISS YOU. I MISS THIS. Your feedback is LIFE

gamma1243: Thank you so much! Of course I don't mind a review for every chapter! lol! I love all the reviews I can get!

Guest: Aw thank you! Your reviews mean the world to me, so I don't mind at all taking the time to reply to all of them for every chapter that I can! :)

Puppens101: Ahhhhh I love hearing that so much! THANK YOU! I hope you are still enjoying!

KiernanCo: Omg thank you! I love you too! :D

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: Guess we will find out!

. : OMG this review though! What compliments! THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH! That makes my heart so happy to hear

seireidoragon: Thank you very much for the review and recommendations! I love chatting with you guys and appreciate the reviews so much! Glad you are enjoying!

MaddyLandin: AH I LOVE YOU TOO!

screechyfangirl: OH hey! Glad you like!

xsheepix: that's a lot of reading in such a short time! Wow! Thanks so much!

Shannon O'Gorman: I did see Endgame! It was glorious but oh man did it break me! SOBS! It was beautiful and tragic and gosh I am so glad to be back to writing this series again

Guest: Thank you!

Kitten: Thanks!

carajiggirl: Thank you for reviewing!

MelancholyQuill: OH MY WORD. I have to say, your review made my heart absolutely stop beating, then start beating at a hyperactive pace. A producer! Wow! Would I have seen anything you've helped produce? :) I have written my own novel and am about to start the hunt for an agent. I have no idea how the publishing process works, but I have worked on this novel for years now, and I finally feel like it's polished and ready! I hope I can get it out there! Anyways, thank you SO much for leaving a review and being amazing enough to put aside work in favor of reading my writing! WOW! I am honored! Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

lucyolympus17: Ah thank you so much for the recommendation! I haven't had much time for reading lately, but when I do get the chance I will check it out!

nanigirl15: Bless you for powering through all these stories! I know what it's like to catch up to the present show or fanfiction series and have to wait for updates. It's killer! Thank you for being so patient!

Guest: I will in my own time, thank you.

2lazy2login: lol, your guest name XD. Glad you like!

Polkadot4946: Wow! Thank you so much! Thank you for sticking with all the stories! I'm glad you are enjoying them!

TheRedScreech: Believe me, I am blown away by the amount of reviews I've gotten on this story and all the others in this series! I can't believe it! Thank you SO much for taking the time to read and review! It makes my heart so happy! I really appreciate it!

Oklahomian: Thanks!

Abigailga: Thank you!

Guest: Will do!

Raven: First of all, I adore the guest name you chose, as I chose that same name for the title character in my original novel! Second, your review made my day, my week, my month! WOW! I had to read it a few times because I was just stunned. Thank you so much for your kind, kind words. You have no idea how much it meant to me and how much it inspired me to get back to this fic and give you lovely people another chapter! You are amazing, and I am so honored to give a little inspiration back! Thank you for your review! Much love!

Awesome Alert: Ah thank you so much! Bless you for bingeing! I am blown away by the love and support of you guys!

* * *

**Seriously the amount of support and kind words I've gotten just continue to amaze and humble me. I love and miss you guys so much. No idea when I'll be able to get the next chapter out, but know that even if it takes awhile, I will be thinking of you and working on it in the meantime! **

**Coming Up: **

**Chapter Four: The Most Dangerous Game**

**Being a superhero and a teenager at the same time is never easy, as Peter knows very well. He struggles to slip back into a normal routine as he is plagued with anxiety, flashbacks, and a growing feeling that something or someone is watching him. The other Avengers are far from idle as they all recover and adjust after their harrowing ordeal in space against the murderous Dravec. **


	4. The Most Dangerous Game

**Chapter Four: The Most Dangerous Game**

* * *

**...**

**...**

**Tony Stark**

"_You had one job." _

"I had twelve percent of a job."

"_Quit being a smartass, Tony. I need your list of groomsmen by the end of the day, or you're standing up there with Scott Lang as your best man." _

"Now you're just playing dirty," I say, putting my feet up on the desk as I smirk at the lovely Pepper Potts gracing my computer screen.

"_One of us has to," _she says with a pointed look. "_Bridal party finalization today. No exceptions." _

"I love it when you give orders."

"_I love it when you obey them." _

The door to my office opens, and my eyes flick over to the silhouette emerging from the shadows. Turning back to Pepper, I say, "Gotta go, Miss Potts. I have a date with the dark, brooding, mysterious type. Promises to be quite the kinky evening."

"_Bridal party. Don't forget." _

She hangs up, and I fold my hands to rest them over my stomach, eyeing the sweaty man still clad in gym clothes, his boy band hair tied up in a low ponytail.

"I'm getting married," I announce.

"So I've heard."

"I have the number of New York's most accomplished barber."

"No."

"I doubt Steve has had the good grace to let you know that hobo chic died about ten years ago. I'm trying to do you a favor."

"You're trying to make sure I don't ruin your wedding pictures."

"Who says you're invited?"

"Pepper."

"Not that I'm not enjoying this friendly banter, weird and foreign as it is, but what can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?"

"ERTS."

"Gesundheit."

Barnes gives me an even look as he stiffly sits into the chair on the other side of my desk. "Your evil robot training simulation."

"First off, that is not what the acronym stands for. Second, what about it?"

"I want to know how it works."

I peer at him. "It's still in the trial stage. Look, I'm sorry Steve got blown halfway to hell last time we tested it, but with great technological advance comes great risk. Not exactly the first time your pal volunteered for something without reading the fine print."

Barnes stares me down, and I notice his fingers are curled tightly around his knees. "I'm not talking about Steve. I'm talking about just now. We tested it."

"Really?" That snatches my attention, and I swing my feet off the desk to lean forward. "You certainly don't look blown to hell. A little damp, but-"

"What the hell are you playing at?"

I blink at his sharp tone. "Come again?"

"Why would you make something that could simulate the evil assholes who abducted and hunted us?" demands Bucky, leaning forward.

That's when I really see him. How pale his skin has become, the slightest shake of his fingers as they clench the arms of his chair. This is a man rattled and pissed as hell about it.

"What happened?" I demand, any lightness gone from my own voice.

"Your program created Dravec, that's what happened."

"Jesus Christ."

"Why is that even an option? Why would you put those monsters-"

"I didn't."

He bristles, opening his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "I designed the simulation to analyze each combatant and produce the enemy that would provide the most challenge. ERTS does the rest."

"You really don't see any problems with that kind of program?"

"Well . . . I do now."

Barnes lets out a frustrated sigh that almost sounds like a growl as he leans back in his chair and looks away.

"I'm sorry," I say soberly. "I mean, you and Rogers were playing with an experimental simulation without permission, so it's kind of on you, but I am sorry that-"

"It wasn't Steve," Bucky's eyes cut into me. "It was Peter."

My spine goes rigid. "The kid?"

He nods. "And Nat. I know it was stupid. I'm the one who tried to talk them out of it. Yes, I'm surprised as you are that I was the voice of reason."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"So we tried it. Thought it would be a good way for the kid to pick up the new moves we'd been teaching him. We had no idea-" he stops, jaw working. "We had no idea it would create those monsters."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my shoulders slumping. "He okay?"

"Shaken. But he's fine. He's with Sam and Nat."

At least Sam was there to clean up my mess. "ERTS is off the table until Bruce and I do some more tinkering with it."

"Obviously. Also, you need a new name."

"So I've been told," I sigh. "Are you okay?"

Barnes looks a little more at ease, a little less tense, although his haunted expression remains firmly in place, more prominent than it's been lately. "It was . . . surprising. Felt like I got dropped straight back into that jungle. That everything that's happened in between was a dream, and I was waking back up in hell."

My insides squirm, and a chill finds its way down my back. I reach down into the bottom drawer of my desk, pulling out two glasses from the velvet lined container and a bottle of whiskey. Pouring some for each of us, I hand a glass to Bucky, who takes it with a nod.

"I was able to pull myself out of the panic," he says, tossing it back and setting the glass back onto the desk. I refill it for him. "Instincts kicked back in pretty quick, as did my logic. The cityscape and Natasha being right there helped."

"I'm guessing by your grim cadence that the kid wasn't able to snap out of it so quickly."

He shakes his head.

Damn it.

"What little I was able to see, Peter was running on pure fight or flight until the simulation was shut down," Barnes rubs at his chest a little with a wince. "He certainly packs quite a punch for something so small."

I remember a certain Christmas Eve, the kid's weight plowing into me mid air, sending me crashing back into the wall. Even fully armored, I'd worn black and purple bruises for weeks after. "That he does," I sigh again, raising my glass. "Here's to screwing up time and time again."

Barnes clinks his glass against mine. "Here's to consistency."

We drink.

* * *

**Peter Parker**

A pair of neatly folded socks smack into the side of my face. I jump out of my skin, then whip around to see Aunt May standing in the living room, a laundry basket full of folded clothes perched on her hip.

She raises her eyebrow with an incredulous smile. "Did you let the socks hit you just to make me feel better?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Spidey-senses still off, huh?"

"Yeah," I say, rubbing the back of my neck as I bend over to retrieve the fallen socks. "Ever since, well, you know."

"It'll get better," May moves forward to kiss the top of my head. "You know what will help?"

"What?"

She shoves the laundry basket into my hands. "Doing your own damn laundry. You're sixteen, not six," May squeezes my face, her fingers pressing into my cheeks as she gives me a little shake. "Or should I tell your girlfriend the next time she's over that I still fold your underwear?"

"May!" I jerk out of her grasp, nearly dropping the basket.

"Just sayin' kiddo. A woman admires a man who can do laundry and cook. Show her that you can do the dishes, and she'll be sold. Nothing sexier than a man who knows his way around the kitchen sink."

"Please stop."

"So I've heard the talks with Sam have been going well," May says as she moves around the couch to pick up an old coffee mug. She sniffs it, her nose wrinkling with disgust, then moves for the kitchen.

"Yeah, he's cool. Have you and Mr. Stark been talking?"

"Tony? Oh no. I just got off the phone with Happy."

My head jerks back as my face screws up. "Happy?"

"Sure," she says through a smile, filling the mug with water and a healthy dose of Dawn kitchen soap.

"You guys talk?"

May laughs. "Why are you so surprised? He only carts you to and from the Avengers facility every weekend. Sometimes we have lunch."

"You _what?"_

"Oh, relax, Peter. The man is allowed to eat."

"Yeah, but-"

"Have you heard from MJ yet?"

I scowl, looking down at the neatly folded laundry within the white plastic basket. "No. No, she's still at that political rally with her mom. I don't know when she'll be back."

"Well let me know when she calls. I want to have her over for dinner. Don't worry, I won't be cooking. Or telling her about your inability to fold your own underwear."

I watch as she opens the fridge and pulls out a slab of ground beef, an onion, eggs, and a jar of minced garlic. "You making meatloaf tonight?" I ask hopefully.

"Well considering you devoured the one I made three days ago, and it's one of the few things I can make without screwing up, yes."

"I love you."

"I know. Go do your homework. You still have about an hour before dinner. And I want that laundry put away. It doesn't live in that basket, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, shuffling into my room with the basket in my hands. Immediately I notice the lit up screen on my phone sitting on my desk. Setting the basket aside, I pick up my phone.

_Missed call from Ned. _

_Ned: Dude, have you started your essay? _

_Ned: You did do the reading, right? _

_Ned: Thank god it was so short_

_Ned: Creepy AF tho_

_Ned: Ooh wait. That book probly hit too close to home? Want me to send you my paper _

_to copy?_

_Ned: Mom saw my last text. I'm sorry for implying that I was willing to cheat. I am not. I _

_know that we each have to do the reading and write our own papers. _

_Ned: I'm also grounded. TTYL_

I snort. Poor Ned. I quickly look through my backpack to find the packet of papers stapled together half sticking out of my English binder. The book we were supposed to read was so short, Mrs. Nelson just printed out twenty copies for the class from a PDF versus making us hunt down a paperback copy.

"The Most Dangerous Game" by Richard Connell.

Huffing a sigh, I plop down on my bed, propping the pillows so I'm half sitting up before I decide to see if I can speed read this thing before dinner.

I get five paragraphs in before the lining in my stomach hardens into something heavy, a sense of foreboding crawling over my skin.

" _. . . Great sport, hunting." _

"_The best sport in the world," agreed Rainsford._

"_For the hunter," amended Whitney. "Not for the jaguar." _

"_Don't talk rot, Whitney," said Rainsford. "You're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?" _

"_Perhaps the jaguar does," observed Whitney. _

"_Bah! They've no understanding." _

"_Even so, I rather think they understand one thing-fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death."_

I'm starting to understand why Ned was so willing to let me skip the reading in favor of copying his paper in my own words.

"_Even so, I rather think they understand one thing-fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death."_

Steeling myself, I force my eyes to quickly scan through the packet, reading as fast as I am able to while still retaining the essence of the story to do a paper on. Every passing word tugs at my gut, has my hands going clammy with sweat.

Sicker and sicker I become as I read about a monstrous general dominating an island, shipwrecking men only to send them off into his jungle for him to hunt down like animals.

Thrilling, he admits to Rainsford, because they can reason.

And then Rainsford is forced into the hunt, into becoming the hunted, into tearing through the jungle and outsmarting a savage, ruthless hunter out for his blood.

Rainsford won, I remind myself as the packet drops from my trembling fingers, as my clammy hands clamp around the back of my neck and squeeze in an effort to slow my pounding pulse and ground me in my bedroom. He won. He outsmarted General Zaroff and survived.

I won. I survived.

And yet somehow, everytime I close my eyes, I can feel the weight of the sticky humidity on my skin. I can hear the droning of buzzing, chittering, alien insects. I can see the red burning eyes of the Dravec as they emerge from the foliage, closing in, cornering me-

"Peter?"

"SHIT!" I jump so violently, my head slams into the bottom of the top bunk. May's eyes are wide as she keeps one hand on the doorknob.

"Jesus!" she exclaims. "What's got you so jumpy?"

"English," I groan, rubbing the top of my head. "Dinner ready?"

"No. I was just going to ask if you'd throw together the salad mix while I microwaved the potatoes," May says, her brow creased with concern. "But homework first. And laundry. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just . . . I'm going to be on edge for awhile," I admit, staring at the splayed papers on the floor, held together by a lopsided staple. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Well, there is something," May says, raising an eyebrow as her face takes on a stern cadence that hadn't been there before. "How come you didn't tell me about the biology field trip?"

I blink. "The what?"

She holds up a paper. "To the zoo? This Wednesday? I found this paper under your math homework, which you left on the coffee table, by the way. Apparently your teacher is in dire need of some chaperones?"

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah-huh. What, am I not cool enough to chaperone your field trips, now?"

"No!" I let out a strangled half laugh, still trying to calm my heartbeat from the stupid English assignment. "No, I just forgot. A lot on my mind and all that."

"Someday I'm not gonna let Spiderman stuff fly as an excuse. Lucky for you, today is not that day," May says, waving the paper at me. "Also, I'm chaperoning. Capiche?"

"Capiche."

"Put away the laundry and come help me with the salad, yeah?"

"Yeah. Be right there."

* * *

"Dude, I stayed up until at least two am doing that stupid paper," I say through a yawn, shouldering my backpack as we wait for the crosswalk to signal we are free to leave the sidewalk.

Ned winces in sympathy. "English sucks. How are we supposed to write an eight to ten page paper on such a short book?"

"I don't know. I think I used a lot of really generic cliches. I'm hoping for a C."

"I had one super good line that might bring me up to a B. Can't remember for the life of me what it was though. Oh shit . . . you know . . . I think maybe it was actually a quote from the new Jumanji movie."

I laugh. "God, I hope so."

"That Richard Connell guy had some serious issues. I mean, who comes up with that kind of crap? People hunting people," Ned shudders.

Ahead, the crosswalk switches from a pixely orange hand to the white, generic silhouette walking. We join the mass of people crossing the busy intersection.

"Yeah," I mutter. "Pretty messed up."

Ned shoots me a look. "You had nightmares again, didn't you?"

"No, actually."

A bead of silence. "Because after you finished your paper you didn't let yourself sleep."

" . . . maybe."

"Well, that's healthy. Sam will be thrilled."

"Sam doesn't have to know."

"Isn't that the exact opposite of how a therapist works?"

"He's not my therapist. He's a . . . a coworker who just happens to have experience in trauma and anxiety who I work out with and sometimes tell things to."

Ned fake coughs into his fist. "Therapist."

An old woman with a fluffy white perm glances over her shoulder to look at me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she pulls her oversized purse closer to her.

I shoot Ned a glare.

In the same moment, my spine goes rigid, and a familiar sense of warning blares like uncomfortable heat at the base of my skull.

Danger. _Danger. _

I stop in the middle of the busy crosswalk, irritated New Yorkers hissing insults and curses as they are forced to step around me. Ned pauses, looking concerned, but my eyes are frantically scanning the intersection.

Not even broad daylight or the masses of civilians around me deters my suspicion, and, if I'm completely honest with myself, my panic.

It's not like I haven't been taken in broad daylight before.

But this pulsing sense of danger isn't for me.

There's smoke on the horizon.

"Gotta go," I say to Ned before I'm tearing down the street in the opposite direction.

"You'll be late for school!" protests Ned, but I'm already gone.

* * *

It isn't what I expect.

There's no business or apartment complex engulfed in flames, the area surrounded by gawping bystanders and blaring fire engines and police vehicles.

I arrive as Spiderman to a pretty abandoned corner of Queens. Warehouses rise up along the wide, empty lots, the river not too far from where I land, perched on corner of a particularly squat, brick building.

My lenses narrow as I scan the area, noting the chain link fences, the scattered lampposts, the battered metal shipping containers completely covered in layers of faded graffiti. Not a soul in sight. No cars either.

These are the warehouses that have gone unused and unsold for years, the ones that still bear "FOR LEASE" signs with no hope of prospective buyers. Mostly they wind up as homeless camps and places for runaway teens or drug deals.

Drifting up into the sky, a thin column of black smoke has nearly dissipated, and my eyes follow the source down to the other side of a tall, greenish warehouse whose windows are nearly all broken or smashed in.

Firing a web, I swing down into the empty lot, tucking in my legs before my feet can scrape against the ground, and swing up, up, up until THWACK-I'm sticking to the side of the building.

I spider crawl up, my hands and feet sticking to the once beige stonework that has taken on a greenish hue from mold or something.

Danger. _Danger, _warn my senses.

It's a physical effort to shrug off the feeling of being watched as I reach the top and flip up and over onto the roof. A quick jog across it, and I'm peering over the ledge to the source of the smoke.

A metal shipping container is on its side, the back end of it pressed crookedly against the side of the warehouse. Metal sheeting is peeled back on the top, and from its crude opening seeps now light gray smoke.

"What the hell?" I mutter. "Karen, you got anything?"

"_My scans show no sign of life, and the flames seem to have been doused recently."_

"Weird. How recently?"

"_Sometime within the last five minutes."_

Something is off here. I can feel it. Plus, who sets fire to an empty storage container only to put it out again and leave? What the hell is going on?

"_If you leave now, you can just make it in time for the first period bell. Would you like me to calculate the fastest route for you?"_

"Hang on. I want to check this out."

I crawl down the side of the warehouse until it's a safe enough distance for me to flip off of it, then I land on the cement in a low crouch, hands splayed.

Why had my senses alerted me to danger if it was just some meth head playing with fire and then panicking and putting it out? Maybe the warning I felt had been for something else, something close by, and I just saw the smoke and assumed they were connected. Or maybe it's like last week, when I nearly had a panic attack over nothing at all.

God, this is confusing.

It would be swell if these spider senses of mine would come with a manual, or a pulsing, bright red arrow to point me in the direction of whatever the hell they are sensing.

I approach the container, wrinkling my nose at the smell of burnt plastic and acrid smoke. Cautiously, I grab the edge and peer around to the inside, my lenses automatically adjusting to the dim light so that I can see deep within.

Through the dwindling smoke, I can just make out a pile of smoldering debris; a mixture of gray, curled papers, garbage, and scraps of pallet wood.

There's no one here.

Seriously, what the hell? Maybe I should just head to class.

My feet carry me inside, and I crouch before the massive pile, holding my hand above it to feel the heat. Karen was right, this was definitely put out recently.

There's a crawling sensation along my shoulder blades, one that grows in intensity as it shudders up my spine to the nape of my neck.

I whirl.

Nothing.

"_Peter, my senses are detecting an elevated heart rate and blood pressure. Are you alright?" _

"I'm good, Karen, just a little on edge. No need to send the data to Mr. Stark or Sam, ok? I'm fine."

"_If you insist."_

"I always insist. You just never listen."

"_I listen. I'm always here for you, Peter. No matter what."_

Now I feel bad. "Thanks, Karen."

I make my way out of the container, and just as I'm about to fire a web to the top corner of the greenish warehouse, movement catches my eye. A shadow flickers beyond the clouded, cracked glass of one of the windows on the second level.

The chill running down my back tells me it's not just a squatter.

Maybe my senses were right after all.

I head for the building.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hello dear readers! As a thank you for all the lovely and amazingly supportive reviews, I decided to power through another chapter to offer you guys a quicker update! **

**Hope you like my little homage to Far From Home!**

**As always, a huge thank you to my beta, PippinStrange. This is the most belated birthday fic EVER but it is all for you my friend! You are amazing and inspiring and I love every single word that you write! **

* * *

Lailuh: Aw thank you! I have no words for how your reviews make me feel! Thanks!

DarylDixon'sLover: This series is definitley not going to be following Infinity War. Paint it Black marked my divergence from the MCU to take an altered path, although I may tie in elements from some of the movies

Ethel Xenathippe: Thanks very much! It's possible, that's all I'll say. ;)

AllTheFandomsForever: Omg I know what you mean. Glad I can assist!

Guest: Thanks very much! I won't abandon, I promise!

PippinStrange: Bless you my friend! Reviewing and sending me notes. You are too too kind! It's all for you! You are the gift!

gamma1243: Aw thank you so much! I'm so glad it lived up to expectations!

Blaney: A danger room just felt so right for this universe! Cuz why not? Although clearly it needs some tweaks. I would like to develop Peter's relationship with Natasha, so we will see what happens! :)

monkeybaby: Thanks!

harold-the-rabbit: I couldn't resist! lol!

Clara Brighet: GIRL your reviews SLAAAAAAAAAY me! Holy schmidt! Like I had the biggest smile on my face, and I will admit, read it about a million times. I love hearing all of your favorite bits, as well as your fellow fangirling with your sister. OMG. It is absolutely unreal and totally makes my day. THANK YOU for all of your reviews, I ADORE them! I assure you I fangirl just as hard over your reviews as you do my chapters! Can't wait to post more chapters for you! You guys are the absolute best! MUCH LOVE! Gah and thank you for rereading! Bless you!

kclovesart21: Lol! Thank you! Yeah, not one of their best ideas. lol

nanigirl15: I love how excited you and your sister get! It makes me excited! lol! Thank you so much!

wut: ALL THE THINGS :D

TheRedScreech: My heart was pounding while I wrote it! I love Sam's personality and insight and how much he wants to help people, because he gets it. Super glad I can give him a slightly more prominent role in this fic! Good luck with your novel, my friend!

LoonyLovegood1981: Glad to be back! Thank you so much for your support for my book! I can't wait to hopefully update you guys soon on its progress in getting published! There are quite a few Marvel characters that I haven't yet written but would love to incorporate into my CMFU! Hill and Fury may make an appearance in this series. ;) Thanks for being so understanding!

TomatoPotatoXx: I understand the disappointment, but this is a format I have done for most of this series. Not everyone has an account that I can send a personal reply to, so I like to do it here. I like conversing with my readers and making sure they feel appreciated for leaving me words of encouragement. Thanks for understanding! :)

insane panda hero: Ahhh thank you so much! I'm glad you've been enjoying and welcome aboard!

Puppens101: Omg that is a high compliment! I love being immersed in fiction and try my hardest to create an immersive environment. Love to hear that and that you were rereading! I am honored and grateful!

parisindy: Lol! Thank you!

Writer-at-Heart0: Thank you so much! I love having them tied so closely together. It was what I missed in the MCU

seireidoragon: Omg thank you so much! And I hope you liked the conversation between Bucky and Tony! They have certainly come a long way from the beginning

Dripht: This may be one of the most amazing reviews I have ever read. Your comparison to the fruit bat had me laughing so hard, and your review had me gasping and grinning with delight. Thank you very sincerely for your kind words. They seriously made my day. I am so glad you have enjoyed my series, and I thank you for your encouragement and support! I can't tell you how much it means to me and how much it inspires. Thank you very, very much!

Guest: WOW! I am honored by your words and for providing a softener for the blow that Endgame dealt. It messed me up as well, and if I can provide solace through fanfiction, then it is my duty as a fellow fan to offer it! That line about Peter riding into battle on a dinosaur being believable made me laugh so hard, and I super appreciate it! I promise I won't forget you, and thank you so very much for reviewing!

.Seven: Thank you! Me too!

Thebookworm33: I read it after I wrote a good chunk of this fic, and holy moly it is disturbing. Peter is unfortunate to be reading it during this fiasco. ;)

cargumentluv: Yay! I love making you guys happy! Sorry for the PTSD, even if it is good. XD THank you very, very much and hope you enjoyed!

Raven: Ah hello! SO glad you were able to see the update! Your review put the biggest smile on my face, so it's the least I can do to return the favor by posting a chapter and leaving a note for you here. Thank you so much for your encouraging words and lovely reviews! I appreciate them SO much! I will let you guys know if my novel ever makes it and is available to the public!

kkbri: Bless you for binging this series! Thank you so much for your sweet review! It makes me so happy that you are enjoying it!

* * *

**Coming up: **

**This chapter isn't written or outlined yet, so it will be entirely a surprise! As is the chapter title! Sorry to leave you guys hanging, but you know I am the Queen of Cliffhangers after all! ;) Much love! You guys are the best!**


	5. So it Begins

**Chapter Five: So It Begins**

* * *

**...**

**...**

**Peter Parker**

It's just a homeless person.

I am paranoid as hell. I'm gonna be wrong, and Mr. Stark is going to laugh at me if he watches the recordings from my suit. Then he'll maybe encourage me not to miss class for the sake of booting squatters out of an abandoned warehouse.

Palms, knees, and toes pressed against the side of the building, in between two clouded windows, I stick there for a minute to calm my breathing.

"Droney."

The spider emblem on my chest clicks, the eight legs bending up and pushing away from me as the tiny motors begin to whir, and the drone lifts into the air to hover pleasantly in front of me.

"See that broken window over there?" I whisper, jerking my head in its direction. "Sneak through and scan for any signs of life. And uh . . . be stealthy about it, would ya?"

Droney seems to dip slightly, as if in acknowledgement, before whirring off. I watch it go, and a tiny screen appears in the corner of my lenses, giving me an immediate visual of the drone's point of view.

_"If you leave now, you will only be five minutes late to first period. A tardy will look better on your record than an unexcused absence."_

"I'm just going to check this out. Two minutes tops for Droney to sweep the warehouse, and once it gives us the all clear, we'll go, ok?"

_"What do you theorize the drone will discover?"_

"I . . . don't really know. Hush."

Karen obeys, and I resist the urge to scratch at the back of my neck, the goosebumps and raised hairs rubbing against my suit unpleasantly. Something slithers faintly in my stomach, barely there like the brush of eyelashes against skin.

It makes me nauseous.

Shaking myself, because I'm being a complete idiot, I watch Droney hover above the floor where I'd seen the shadow move.

The warehouse floor is filthy and stained; old, mildewy newspapers, trash, discarded beer bottles and broken glass litter the space. Even though it's morning, the windows are so clouded and fuzzy that the sun's light barely filters through in broken shafts that catch the edges of chunks of glass and make them glitter.

Droney shifts this way and that, giving me a view of the wide, barren building. The second floor where it's scanning is mostly a railed walkway encircling the open warehouse, a few doors leading to closed offices, and dozens of cracked, fogged windows. I see a few metal grated stairs leading down to the floor below, and up to an open third level.

It buzzes this way and that, its sensors carefully scanning, but I can already see that it's pointless. There's no one here.

Disappointment and relief battle to see which one comes to the forefront. It's a draw.

On the one hand, no baddies up to no good. Yay.

On the other hand, my spidey senses are clearly damaged from my stint with the Dravec, and I am now over-analyzing what was likely just a pigeon passing through the sunlight and casting a shadow.

I sigh.

Then freeze.

One of the doors to the office is swaying back and forth ever so slightly, like someone just slipped through. The room behind it is dark.

"There," I encourage Droney, and it obediently whirs in that direction.

A line splits in the middle of its screen in my lenses, the two halves jerking away from each other before settling.

What the—

The screen begins to flicker as Droney gets closer to the door, static flashing as bursts of color distort the image of the warehouse interior. Droney seems to sway drunkenly, its motors sounding suddenly feeble, and then it careens towards the ground. It lands in a pile of trash, and now all I can see through the flickering screen is half of a Taco Bell wrapper.

"What the heck is wrong with Droney?"

"_Its power source is at 2%. I suggest retrieving it and connecting it to the suit to recharge."_

Damn it.

Sighing again, I look around and find a window higher above me and several feet to the right that has a chunk missing from it. Seems big enough for me to slip through.

Sticking to the green tinted wall, I climb my way up quickly to the opening and crawl inside, sucking in my gut to avoid the sharp edges. Then I'm inside, still clinging to the wall as my lenses narrow in on the fallen Droney.

The tiny screen in the corner buzzes, then goes black as the drone dies.

I didn't even know I had to charge that thing. Probably should have read the manual.

Glancing over at the door Droney had been about to inspect, I see that it's perfectly still.

_Get your shit together, Parker. _I scowl beneath my mask. _You're never going to survive the hero business if you panic at every pigeon and breeze. You're also never going to hear the end of it if Mr. Stark sees this. _

_And you're talking to yourself. _

I fire a web with a soft _thwip _of sound and swing down to the concrete level framed by a rusty metal railing. My eyes glance down to the rest of the warehouse, but it is still and silent, as an empty building usually is.

Landing lightly on my feet, I stride over to the pile of trash, grimacing at the rat pellets littering the torn wrappers as I crouch to pick up the drone. It lies still and rigid in my hand.

"Sorry, little guy," I murmur to it as I press it back into its slot on my chest with a gentle click. "I'll charge you as soon as I get home."

Standing, I stretch out my back and groan as I say, "Alright, Karen. Go ahead and calculate the fastest route to school. We gotta swing by that alley to get my backpack first though."

Silence.

"Karen?"

The A.I. doesn't answer, and my voice echoes across the dim, cavernous warehouse.

The nerves at the base of my neck seem to pinch together, sending hot, numbing prickles across my shoulders. I step back. "Karen?" I whisper.

My eyes shoot to the partially opened doorway of one of the offices as if they were dragged there by some unseen force. Then my body is shifting into a careful, defensive crouch, my heart ricocheting in my chest.

I move slowly and carefully for the door, staying low to the ground.

At the last minute, I silently somersault to the wall, pressing my back to it as my right hand creeps over the door frame to press my palm against the wood of the door.

I count to five, then push it slowly open all the way. My body stills for a heartbeat as I wait for something to happen, to hear some shift of rubble moving or a shoe skidding against the floor.

Silence.

I peer around the corner into the dark office.

The window against the far wall is boarded up with graffiti stained plywood, a halo of light framing it and offering a very dim glance into the room. There are chunks of concrete and broken beams pushed up against a corner. The remnants of what looks like a super cheap and very damaged desk from Ikea stand in the center.

The room continues to my right, past what I can see.

Bracing myself, sucking in a breath, I dive inside before I can second guess myself, hitting the ground in a roll and coming up in a crouch, hands shooting out in front of me, fingers on the triggers of my webshooters, ready to fire.

All I see is more trash, more broken furniture, and a rat slipping into a crack in the wall.

Still, I stand there rigidly, eyes wildly scanning every shadow, every shape for the danger that's been screaming at me since I saw smoke on the horizon, for whatever made Droney and Karen go dark.

Nothing. There's nothing.

Oh shit, am I supposed to charge my A.I. now, too? I really need to talk to Mr. Stark about a new suit.

Straightening, I blow out a shaky breath.

Warning claws at my back, and I jerk my upper body to one side as movement blurs past me in a rush.

My lenses widen at the shape I suddenly identify as a massive, meaty arm and clenched fist before it bends and slams toward my face, elbow first. I bend back, spine arching in a move like the Matrix as the elbow hits nothing but air.

Another fist is slamming down toward my exposed stomach, a fist that is attached to a decidedly large, muscled silhouette I can barely see in the dim lighting of the shadowy room.

I let myself drop as I crow, "I _knew _it!"

I'm not crazy! I'm not! My senses were right, they were—

A hand jabs into my sternum so hard I choke, and as it shifts to close around my throat, I seize the wrist and forearm with both hands and roll, using the momentum to throw my attacker off his feet.

He goes flying over me like I expect. Except his hands are holding onto my forearms now, and I am suddenly flying over him straight into that shitty Ikea desk.

I cry out as the cheap wood splinters beneath me, my body rolling across the floor in a graceless heap.

Pushing up with both hands, I see that my attacker, a featureless giant of a man in the darkness, is charging toward me. I shift all my weight into my palms and swing my legs around so that my foot hooks around his ankle when he's close enough, and with a sharp jerk, he goes down.

"You know," I pant, flipping back to get a few feet between us. "Normally one introduces themselves before plowing straight into a butt whooping. I'll start. Hi. I'm Spiderman."

Adrenaline, excitement, and fear all thrum through me in a wild blend that nearly makes me giddy. I can see now through the dim light that the man is in a full body suit, complete with a mask to hide his face.

Somehow he is already on his feet, his knees bent and arms loose at his side in a readying stance. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, just stays where he is. And even though I can't see his eyes, I can feel them boring into me expectantly. Patiently.

"Not a talker, huh? That's okay. I can talk enough for the both of us."

No response, and my unease grows. I clamp it down as I keep the lightness coating my voice. "Alright, buddy. You asked for it."

I fire a web at him, and in a blur of surprisingly fast movement, he dodges it. Not a big deal since I figured he might. The web sticks to the biggest chunk of broken desk, and as I jerk my arm back, it comes flying toward the masked mystery man.

He drops, again, faster than I expect, and the desk is now flying towards me.

"Shit."

I dive to one side, and the sound of clattering, splintering wood explodes behind me.

Large fingers curl over the back of my neck and squeeze, lifting me suddenly and violently into the air, but as I go, I reach back to grab the meaty forearm and swing with the momentum to flip over the man's head, breaking his hold on me.

My fist flies forward, aiming for a spot on his lower back Bucky told me would make most men crumple, but the masked man shifts to the side, dodging the blow and returning one of his own.

This time the elbow does connect with my skull, and I go stumbling back into the wall. Bursts of light fill my eyes a split second before the pain hits, and I blink rapidly to clear my vision, my senses spiking in warning.

I roll away from a booted foot as it slams down into the wall with an echoing WHAM of sound. Spinning, I raise my arm and fire another web.

It bursts into an explosion of strands that wrap around him in a tangled bunch, securing his arms tight against his torso. He strains and fights against them, and I hear some of them already starting to snap as I fire another web, this one a strong rope that sticks right in the center of his chest.

With a grunt of effort, I hold the web with both hands and swing.

My attacker goes soaring past me through the open doorway of the office.

"Ha!" I breathe. "You feel like talking now?"

I step toward the doorway, then pause, distracted by the faint beeping I hear somewhere to my right. Frowning, I glance over to the rubble, surprised to see a tiny bead of red light blinking faster and faster as the beeping accelerates rapidly.

My eyes widen.

"OH SH—"

The room detonates, and as I throw myself toward the boarded window, the blast propels me through the plywood like its nothing more than paper. My arms and legs are flailing in open air for purchase, my fingers itching towards the trigger of my webshooter—

BAM

I hit the ground, bounce painfully up into the air, hit again, and roll across the asphalt a few feet before my body comes to a stop.

Groaning, I shake my head and look up.

A gaping hole stares back at me, a quarter of the office now exposed to the open air as bits of stonework crumble off the opening to clatter to the ground below.

By the time I swing back into the warehouse, the masked man is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

**Natasha Romanoff**

"This uh . . . this is good."

Bruce takes another sip of his decaf as I sweep up the torn, empty packets of raw sugar with my hand.

"You've said that three times," I say, the corner of my mouth curling up before I take a sip of my cappuccino.

He nods, flushing slightly as he sets down his cup and finally meets my eyes. "I have, haven't I?"

"You don't have to be nervous, you know. Not with me."

"The phrase 'we need to talk' is kinda universally known to have not so pleasant connotations, Nat."

I cross my legs beneath the table, holding the warm paper cup in my hands as I look out at the park across the street. The weather is nearly damn perfect, all blue skies and sunshine and warm breezes. I picked this café for the view, and for its privacy. Even seated outside where we are, there's hardly anyone around the street of the lesser known coffee shop, not when the Starbucks around the corner is overflowing with patrons.

"We have some things to figure out." I bring my eyes back to his, and he sighs, rubbing his mouth with his hand, his elbow perched on the table.

"Yeah, I know."

Bruce doesn't seem to be inclined to start as he stares broodily at the table, chin resting in his hand.

"You left."

"Technically that was the other guy."

"I looked for you."

Brown eyes filtered through a wide set of square framed glasses flit up to mine.

"I never stopped," I say. "Not until you came crashing down from the heavens."

"Sounds like the start of a cheesy pickup line," Bruce offers a small smile, hand dropping to rest loosely on the table. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. You didn't have to, you know. Look for me."

"I did." I lean forward, propping my own arms on the table as I keep my palms pressed against the heated paper cup. "Bruce, before you disappeared, we said some things, and I want to clear the air."

"Okay," he says cautiously.

I look down at the black lid, gleaming slightly in the afternoon sun, the faintest hint of lipstick around the edges. "Things were bad. Ultron brought us lower than we'd ever been, and I . . . we were all shaken. Doubting ourselves. Not seeing things for how they were."

When I glance up, I see that his expression has tried to close itself off, but his brows still knit together in worry.

I put my hand on top of his. "I thought that I was fooling myself, thinking I was an Avenger. That at the core of me, I was nothing more than an assassin and a monster."

His fingers curl around mine and squeeze.

"I thought that running was the best option. That we were running toward a future together. But I realized . . . I realized that we were just running away from who we really are."

"And what are we?"

I squeeze back. "Avengers. Protectors."

"Heroes?" His forehead crinkles as he shakes his head.

"Family," I insist. "I know you spent most of your time away as the Hulk. But I've had a lot of time to think. I watched our family get torn apart and stitched back together. I saw us save the world, then save each other. We're better together."

"Together," he echoes. "You and me?"

"All of us," I say gently.

"So, you're saying . . . "

"I'm saying running isn't an option. Not for me. It's not who I am. Just took me awhile to see it."

"I see."

"And you, Bruce?"

"What about me?"

"I need to know where you stand. My feet are planted, and it's good. It's really good. It's warm, and it's not lonely. It's strong. I need to know if you're willing to try to set down roots. With me. With us. Or if running is still on the table for you."

Bruce's eyes drop, and he leans back in his chair, face worn and worried, but he doesn't take his hand from mine.

"What if," he says after a long moment. "What if my roots are no good? What if I'm the hostile weed in the garden bed?"

"You really think you're the only hostile one here?" I raise a brow. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I'm saying that it's worth fighting for."

"You sound so sure."

"I am."

"I want to."

I look at him, trying not to let my heart lift in my chest like it's trying to.

Bruce offers me a small smile. "Be sure."

My stomach twists. "I would have thought that traversing the universe to bring you home would inspire at least a little confidence."

He leans back forward, wrapping both his large, warm hands around mine. "You are the only thing I'm sure about, Nat. It's me that I'm struggling with, here."

"Let me struggle with it," I insist. "All of us. That's what family does. We carry each other's baggage, and we're stronger for it."

I see it. The hope in his eyes he's trying to stifle, the same way I'd been stifling mine. One of us has to embrace it.

So I turn my face and press my lips against his. I kiss him for the first time in years, both of us tasting like sunshine and coffee. I kiss him the way I once pushed him down the pit to get him to do the right thing. I kiss him to show him how strong and safe this could be.

To show him how strong I am. To see if it scares him enough to run again.

I break the kiss, pulling back a few inches to look him straight in the eyes.

Bruce looks right back. "Together," he says.

I smile. "Together."

* * *

**Tony Stark **

"Didn't you sell this place?"

I glance up from the paperwork spread across my desk at the teenager stepping in from the tower balcony, his hair windswept and ridiculous.

Bartelli is going to get a lot of business from me at his barbershop before the wedding.

"I did," I say, leaning against the desk with both palms flat against the surface. "Then I bought it again."

"What did the press think about that?"

"That I'm eccentric."

"What did Happy think about it?"

"The news struck him speechless."

Peter shrugs off his backpack and leaves it in the middle of the floor. Heathen. "For once he'll be more pissed off with you than me. You realize how much work he put into moving day?"

"He'll get over it."

"So . . . is this the new Avengers headquarters then? What about the facility upstate?"

"Oh, that'll remain home base. This is just a secondary branch. In case you haven't noticed, there is now a shit ton of men in tights. The compound was getting a little cramped, and I thought it would be a good idea to have the tower open for residence so some of us are closer to the action whenever New York is under siege again."

"You seem pretty positive that it'll happen again."

I raise a brow. "It's New York City, kid. If it goes more than a year without being attacked, it attacks itself to make up for it."

"Fair," Peter says as he approaches the other side of the desk, his eyes scanning the paperwork with excitement. "New tech designs?"

"Finalization on catering," I pick up a document and wave it in the air. "Thoughts on foie gras?"

"Uhhhhhh—"

"It's controversial," I say, then look at the paper closer. "I'm doing it. How did you know I was here, anyway?"

"Oh, Karen told me a few days ago when I saw the lights on," Peter says. "Speaking of—"

He goes over to his backpack, lifts his crumpled ball of a suit out of it, then dumps his pack right back onto the floor unzipped.

"For god's sake, will you hang that up?" I gesture the wall hooks literally three feet away. "You're about to make my eye start twitching, and I just got that to go away."

"Sorry," he hurries to obey, then brings me his suit, his mouth suddenly turning into a grim line. "So, funny thing happened this morning."

"Normally I'd berate you for interrupting my work, but considering what it is I'm working on, I will gladly bite at this distraction," I say, coming around the desk. "What kind of funny are we talking?"

Peter hands me his suit. "Ok, so I was walking to school with Ned, and we were talking about this crap English paper we had to write and how he was grounded because he tried to—"

"Condensed version please." I start unballing the suit to hold it up in front of me for inspection.

"Right. I snuck into an abandoned warehouse and both Droney and Karen died right before I was attacked by a huge masked ninja guy who blew up a wall and disappeared."

I look up abruptly. "Ok, a little less condensing."

"It was the _craziest _thing, Mr. Stark!" Peter gestures with his hands, eyes looking a little wild. "First my spidey senses were like, 'hey, something's up', and then I went to check out this smoke, which turned out to be a shipping container on fire. Well, it used to be on fire, by the time I got there it was out. So then I saw this shadow in a creepy abandoned warehouse and sent Droney in to investigate."

Someone has got to teach this kid how to be more creative with naming tech.

"But then Droney just up and died so I had to go in and get him, but then _Karen _died, and this guy jumped me."

I'm striding across the room to the stairs leading up to the workshop, the kid following close behind. "What guy?" I demand.

"I don't know. He was massive. Like . . . like Dwayne Johnson big. But it was dark and he was wearing this black bodysuit and mask over his face. He didn't say a word. No threats, no evil monologuing, nothing."

Reaching the workshop, I lay the suit out on one of the tables, gesturing for Dum-E Jr. to bring me my tools. It complies, and I'm prying open the center compartment to reach the wires and control center lining the inside of the suit. Inserting the sensor lined probes into the power source, I say, "You said something about an explosion?"

"Yeah, when I was getting the upper hand on him, this bomb went off and knocked me out of the warehouse and disappeared. I haven't been able to get anything in my suit other than my webshooters to work ever since."

There's a soft click, then the suit comes to life, blue lights blinking where they should, and a list of stats begin to appear on the computer screen just behind the table. My eyes scan them quickly, looking for any errors, for any sign of interference or tampering.

Peter leans forward, taking in the information alongside me. "It had to have been some kind of EMP or something, right? Some tech he used to black it all out?"

I don't answer, just keep reading the stats as they come up. A frown tugs at my mouth.

"What?" demands Peter. "Did you find it?"

"Programs are running just fine."

"What?! No way," he turns to the suit, adjusting the probes and tapping on the control center. "I'm telling you, everything just started dying on me."

"And I'm telling you, there's not a single record of your A.I. going offline," I say, moving around the table to tap instructions into the screen. "Systems are clean."

"That's impossible!"

I find and select the video files from the Baby Monitor protocol, pulling up today's date and this morning's footage. It slides up onto the screen, showing us both a first person view from Peter's suit.

He quickly joins me in front of the computer, brows furrowed as we watch his spider themed drone separate from his suit to hover into the warehouse, and a second window pops up onto the computer monitor.

It methodically scans the entire perimeter, sensors searching for any signs of life and finding only a handful of pigeons and a few rats as it hovers through the empty space.

"So far, I'm just seeing the delights of squatting in an empty building, kid."

"Hang on, it's coming up, right here," Peter points at the screen. "Right here is where it's going to go dark."

The drone scans through each of the dark office rooms on the second level, switching to night vision when it needs, then speedily returns to click into Peter's suit. The second window on the monitor closes out, and it's just the suit POV left.

"What the hell?" Peter breathes, eyes wide. "That-that didn't happen! That's not—"

I watch as Peter climbs into a broken window on the third level and drops into the warehouse. Minutes pass in tense silence as he scours every inch of that building, and, finding nothing at all except a rat slipping into the wall, he leaves, heading for his backpack that he stashed in an alley.

I pause the footage.

Peter faces me, a slightly unhinged expression on his face. "He tampered with my suit!"

"Kid—"

"I can't believe it! He killed Droney and Karen, then hacked into my suit to change the footage! I didn't even think that was possible! Can you trace the hack to its source? Are there any digital footprints that we could cross analyze with—"

"Peter." I put both hands on his shoulders. Looking at him, really looking at him, I notice how pale his skin is, how wide his pupils are. Unease winds its way through my intestines. Carefully, I say, "No one hacked your suit."

"Then how do you explain—"

"Kid. I'm looking at the data. It's all right here. There's not even the slightest trace of tampering. And it would take someone on par with my genius to even attempt something like that. A giant ninja doesn't seem like a likely candidate."

His brows knit together. "But that's not what happened," he points wildly at the computer screen. "My tech died and I fought that guy!"

Holy shit. Have we underestimated his level of PTSD this bad?

I look over him, nearly drowning in concern. Sam said Peter was improving, that he was experiencing mild symptoms but handling them well with their weekly sessions and training. How had we overlooked something so serious like hallucinations in the dark?

Jesus Christ, how badly have I damaged this kid?

"Mr. Stark, I know that look." Peter backs out of my grip. "I'm not crazy, I'm not Venom-ified, I'm not losing it, okay? You can't tell me your systems have never been hacked before."

"Of course they have. And every time I've rebuilt them to be better and stronger than before," I reply with confidence. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes," he says automatically. "Well, mostly. Not last night. But that's totally beside the point—"

"Hey," I interrupt, putting my arm over his shoulder when I sense his rising hysteria. "Look, I'm gonna keep your suit overnight."

He opens his mouth to protest, but I talk over him. "I'll run a few diagnostic scans, delve a little deeper, see what could have caused any malfunctioning."

"Or tampering."

"Or tampering," I nod. "Just because nothing shows up on the surface doesn't mean there's not something buried underneath, yeah?"

Peter's shoulders relax slightly, and some of the panic eases out of his face. "Right."

"Right," I echo, giving him a friendly little shake to loosen him up. "We'll figure it out, ok? Let's not get too worked up until we have all the facts. Now, I'm pretty sure you're approaching curfew."

"May knows I came to see you."

"I'm sure your aunt would still appreciate a timely return. It is a school night. Head down to the lobby, and I'll call you a car."

Peter walks over to his backpack, lifts it off the hook, and shoulders it. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks distracted, unsettled, but at least calmer than he was a few minutes ago.

He heads for the elevator, and I call, "Peter."

The kid pauses and looks over his shoulder.

"I got you," I say firmly. "We'll figure out what happened and take care of it. Now get some sleep."

Peter offers me a small smile. "I will. Thanks, Mr. Stark."

I wait until the red numbers above the elevator indicate that he hit the ground floor before walking back up to my workshop and pulling out my phone. I pull it up to my ear and wait.

"_Hello?"_

"Sam? It's Tony. We need to talk."

* * *

**Peter Parker **

He doesn't believe me.

I sit silently in the back of a seek, black Audi, some random driver whose name I hadn't bothered to ask driving me steadily back to Queens. It's dark out, and I watch the brightly lit cityscape blur past me with a sinking sensation in my gut.

Mr. Stark tried to reassure me at the end, tried to flip the conversation around so it seemed like he was seriously looking into it instead of patronizing me. But I could see it. Sense it.

He doesn't believe me.

It's a shitty feeling, one that leaves my body heavy and wound tight.

I've done the 'keep secrets from the adults' thing. A lot. And it always screwed me over in the end. This time . . . this time I had taken the initiative and brought it straight to Mr. Stark's attention, and instead of taking my word for it, he totally thought I was straight up hallucinating.

My fingers ball into clenched fists, and I feel an urge to punch out the door beside me.

I'm not crazy. I'm _not. _

I didn't imagine that fight in the warehouse. It happened, it was real, and someone effing tampered with my suit to change the footage.

I'm not crazy. But I'm kind of terrified.

Because it had been a setup. That masked man had been waiting for me, had drawn me in, jumped me, then escaped only to hack into and wipe the real footage of my suit to replace it with fake ones.

How the hell is that even possible?!

And again, the absolute worst part of this, the scariest thing about the entire situation is that Mr. Stark thinks my PTSD has made me crack. He believed the data, which to be fair, was super believable. Almost enough to make me doubt my own memories.

But I _know _what happened.

I just have to find some way to get proof.

My fingers dig into my pocket for my phone, and scrolling through my messages, I find Sam's name.

Me: _Sam, we need to talk. _

I stare at the phone screen, hoping he isn't busy, hoping he sees my text. My foot begins tapping against the car floor in anticipation. The driver doesn't even glance back.

Sam: _Funny. I've been getting that a lot tonight. _

Shit. S_hit! _Mr. Stark already called him? This is unraveling a lot faster than I thought. I frantically begin typing back.

Me: _I know this looks bad. Super bad. _

_ How much has he told you? _

_Doesn't matter. Listen, someone attacked me and wiped the footage. I don't know how or why or who but I am not crazy. _

_. . . which I realize is what a crazy person would say. _

_But I'm telling you something is up. Mr. Stark thinks its my PTSD. I know he does. _

_It's not, Sam. I'm not crazy. _

My heart is racing in my chest, my head feeling a lot lighter and slightly fuzzy around the edges than it did a few minutes ago. I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out in a rush.

Sam: _No one is saying you're crazy, alright? Breathe. _

Me: _I am breathing. _

Sam: _You and I are gonna meet up tomorrow. I want to hear everything. _

Me: _I get out of school at three. _

Sam: _There's a sandwich spot on the corner of 21__st_

Me: _Delmar's, I know it_

Sam: _Some punk told me they have the b__est sandwiches in Queens_

I can't help but smile, feeling something tight in my chest ease a little. I type back.

Me: _I'll be there_

Sam: _We'll grab some food and go for a walk. _

Me: _Sam_

I hesitate.

Sam: _Talk to me, goose_

Me: _Just . . . I know how bad this looks. Promise you'll hear me out_

Sam: _It's what I'm here for. Promise. _

_How bout you promise me something?_

Me: _Yeah?_

Sam: _Get some sleep tonight. I need your brain sharp and focused so we can figure this out tomorrow_

Me: _I will. Thanks, man_

_S_am: _Anytime_

It's too hard to tell through text whether he's pulling the same stuff that Mr. Stark did, appeasing and reassuring me while actually being super concerned that I've finally cracked.

I lock my phone, watching the screen go dark, then return to looking out the window.

If Sam doesn't believe me tomorrow . . .

Stop. Stop that line of thought. Sam's gonna listen, he has to. Because he knows my symptoms and signs better than anyone. He knows that I'm not that far gone to make up an entire fight in my head.

Once Sam is on my side, once I get his help, we'll figure out who this guy is, what he wants, and how he was able to hack into my suit.

It's going to be fine. My grip on my phone tightens, and it lets out a squeak of protest that has me loosening my fingers.

I'm gonna be fine.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Thank you guys for sticking with me even through my inconsistency! **

**I know the Natasha/Bruce scene might seem a little random, but even though this fic is centered on Peter Parker, I want to keep building on some of the other characters and relationships to set up for the next fics in the series. Plus, since I am "fixing" what the MCU destroyed by writing my own canon of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I wanted to fix Natasha and Bruce's relationship. I LOVED Age of Ultron SO SO SO much, but I hated that Nat was suddenly willing to run away from everything to be with Bruce. I didn't feel like that was accurate to her character, so I wanted a scene in my CMFU to address that. :)**

**Special shout out to PippinStrange! You, my friend, are a goddess and a treasure. No one inspires me as much as you. Your writing is phenomenal, and you are going to go so far! I know that you will accomplish amazing things. I can't wait to see your books on the shelves at the bookstore! Thank you for being such an awesome beta, this is all for you!**

* * *

PippinStrange: LOVE YOU TOO! Hang in there, pal. There are amazing things in store for you!

Puppens101: Thank you very much! You are so sweet! I try to make my writing as immersive as possible, so I love hearing that!

StarStepper: Aw thanks! For a while I had no time to write, and when I did, I was working on original work, so it's so nice to be back in the world of fanfiction! I unfortunately haven't made any progress on My Country tis of Thee. If i get a minute to work on MCU stuff, it's usually for this series. But I would really like to continue it as I have lots of ideas! Hopefully soon!

.Seven: Lol! Sorry you got freaked out!

darkdestiney2000: Ah hello! Thank you for reading my series and joining the review squad! I love hearing form you guys and hearing how much you've enjoyed the stories so far!

TheRedScreech: The Most Dangerous Game is SO disturbing! I hadn't read it until after I started this fic, but then I listened to an audio version of it and YIKES. Perfect for this story for sure. lol. I love how far Tony and Bucky have come! It makes my heart so happy! Glad you are enjoying!

cargumentluv: Ned is such a good friend! I'm so happy to be able to write more of him in this story! And yeah, ERTS needs some serious updates before it can be used again, that's for sure!

LoonyLovegood1981: Glad you enjoyed! I am also really looking forward to the chapter with the zoo field trip, you have no idea. ;) Soon! MJ's absence will definitely be more addressed in the next chapter!

DarylDixon'sLover: THank you!

kkbri: Thank you very much! Glad you are enjoying!

No One Important: Aww, thank you! You rock! Endgame left a big hole in my heart as well, and writing helps SO much to fix it. Glad that it can help you guys recover too! I'm honored! Thank you for your review!

Nerdalier: Omg thank you so much! What a compliment!

gamma1243: Lol! Christmas in July XD. You guys are amazing for my ego I swear. LOL. Thank you so so so much! I try really hard to keep everyone in character while evolving them and their relationships in different ways. I'm so happy you guys like it! And I will definitely let you all know about my novel!

Blaney: Thank you very much! I also really love the relationships Bucky is developing with the other Avengers!

Guest: Omggg thank you! (sobs)

screechyfangirl: Yes he does. lol. Poor kid

Lailuh: I cannot wait for that chapter ;)

Heroes21: Happy birthday! What a happy coincidence! lol!

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: *Evil grin*

blueflame4676: A tornado warning, yikes! That sounds absolutely terrifying! What a memory! Thank you so much for the love you have for my series! It makes my heart so happy to hear, although I'm sorry if the adrenaline gets too much sometimes! lol! Thank you!

nanigirl15: LOL! That is hilarious and awesome! XD

Raven: Gosh, I wish it was canon too! In my head, I see these stories as I write them like movies, but gosh how cool would it be for them to be ACTUAL movies? Thank you for your kind words!

monkeybaby: :D

Guest: I love hearing that people literally squeal when they see updates! lol! Thank you so much for your love for the universe I've created. It means so much to me to hear! Thank you! Love from California!

seireidoragon: They really have come a long way! And so many people have had to write a paper on that story! I never even had to read it in school, so it's new to me! But i love how many people already know it and know it well.

Dripht: Dang, your reviews tho! Seriously slay me every single time! I love getting the email and seeing that it is so lengthy, I have to actually go to the site to read it in its entirety. BLESS YOU. I also love throwing two characters together that had little to no interaction, or very negative interaction, and finding reasons for it to change for the better. It is so much fun and so satisfying. Peter has also come a long way, and the angst he faces in this fic is a little new. He's learned his lesson about hiding important and dangerous things, but now he has to face the struggle of people not believing him when he tells them about it. SUPER exciting to write. Poor kid, though, lol. And you are absolutely right! It is so inspiring to get words of encouragement, fangirling, or lists of people's favorite bits from the chapter. THANK YOU SO MUCH as always. Makes my heart so full!

NZ Guest: thank you so much!

Max Rider: It has been such a delight getting emails for the reviews you've left throughout my series! That is seriously so amazing! Thank you for taking the time to do that and for enjoying my work! It makes me so happy to read! You are awesome!

Clara Brighet: I will always give shoutouts to my amazing review squad! You guys make my day! Thank you so much! Don't worry, MJ's absence will be addressed very soon! :) I love Aunt May too. I can't wait for more of her in this fic, as she will take a very central role here shortly! Thanks for the review as always! You are amazing!

AppleSpongeCake: Ah glad you are enjoying! I almost didn't recognize your review without the creative threat on my life! ;) But seriously, thank you! I cannot wait to write more of this!

* * *

**A/N: You guys. You kill me. Thank you for every single word you write to me. I love hearing from you so much, you have no idea. **

**Coming Up: **

**Peter faces the new struggle of disbelief and concern from the people he trusts most, all while trying to figure out who the mystery attacker was, and how and why his suit got tampered with. Meanwhile the adults in his life are worried how severe his PTSD has become and what exactly the right way to handle it is. **

**Lots of angst, planning, conversations, and build up coming up, my friends. **


	6. Don't Speak

**CHAPTER SIX: DON'T SPEAK**

**. . . **

**. . . **

**Bucky Barnes**

Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I move further into the room, skirting the major debris piles. A layer of dust coats the room and filters in the air in tiny motes that catch in the light. Thin beams of that light shine around the cracks in the large piece of plywood nailed over what used to be a window.

Crouching down to one knee, I swipe my fingers through the dry film of grime, watching as it leaves three clear trails on the floor.

I squint at it as I rub my fingers together, then scan the floor, raising my pocket flashlight as I do so.

If I had to guess, this office has remained undisturbed for a good six to eight weeks with the state of things. The only disturbances in the dust are my own footprints and the traces I just left with my fingertips. And of course, the few signs the kid left in his own investigation.

I note the piles of rubble built up in the corners, the shabby desk leaning against one side. Then I make my way to that boarded over window, my eyes narrowing critically as I run my hand along the concrete wall, the rough edges of cheap wood.

Intact. Unblemished other than the stains from years of unuse.

My jaw sets, and I raise my phone to my ear.

"_Well?" _Stark answers in greeting.

"I checked it out."

"_And?"_

I do another sweep of the abandoned office, feeling a grim weight burrowing into my gut, feeling something akin to treasonous as I say, "There's nothing here. Place hasn't been touched other than by vagrants for months."

There's a long, drawn out sigh on the other end of the line.

"_Are you absolutely sure?" _

"Wish I wasn't," I say, walking out of the office to survey the rest of the dilapidated warehouse. "I see signs of the kid on the window where he entered, some prints that might be his. But there's nothing saying any kind of fight took place, and definitely no marks from an explosion. All the walls are intact. It's clean."

"_What kind of person does it make me that I'm somewhat devastated the kid isn't being stalked by a murderous cyber ninja?"_

"I know what you mean."

Phone to my ear, I click off and pocket my flashlight before making my way out of the warehouse and into the gloomy, cloud covered parking lot beyond.

"_Well, that settles it."_

"Not necessarily."

"_Barnes, the data from his suit is clean. The site of the supposed showdown is untouched. What more proof do we need that the kid's PTSD is worse than we thought?" _

"I don't know." Because I don't, but . . . "Something about this just feels off."

"_Yeah, well, you let me know if that feeling turns into anything concrete, would you? I'd be happy to be proven wrong." _

"That's a first."

"_Thanks for checking it out." _Stark sounds anything but grateful. He sounds like he just got handed divorce papers. "_I owe you one." _

"I'm going to keep looking into this," I say, standing outside of the warehouse and looking up at the spot Peter is insisting got blown to hell.

"_I hope for his sake you find something."_

"I'll keep you updated." I hang up.

I mentally measure the trajectory Peter would have been thrown from the window based on the size of the explosion he'd described to Stark and the height from which he would have fallen. Marking it in my mind, I move for the asphalt, kneeling down where he would have impacted.

Cracks splinter the dark surface, but as I scan the empty, trash strewn parking lot, I see those same patterns crisscrossing everywhere, breaking up old paint and dipping into potholes.

Sighing through my nose, I straighten and scan the warehouses rising up around me.

Either Peter Parker is experiencing severe hallucinations and paranoia . . .

Or whoever we are dealing with is good enough to fool both Ironman and the Winter Soldier by covering his tracks.

My free hand curls into a fist.

I'm going to treat it like the latter until proven otherwise. God help the monster targeting the kid if I'm right.

* * *

**Peter Parker **

"You saving that for later?"

I glance over at Sam, his sandwich half eaten in his hand, then down at my untouched one. "I'm . . . not super hungry right now."

Sam takes another bite, wraps the white deli paper around the remains of his food, then sets it on the dashboard of his car before taking a sip of his soda. "I don't think I've ever seen you turn down food."

I mimic him and toss my sandwich up beside his on the dash as I shift in my seat. Then I steel myself, turn toward him, and meet his gaze. "Sam, I'm not crazy."

"No one's calling you crazy."

"You don't have to. I know how it looks, how it sounds. But I'm telling you, what happened yesterday was real. Mr. Stark doesn't believe me. And don't try to tell me he does," I add quickly. "Because I saw his face last night."

"Tony's concerned," Sam says gently, resting an arm casually on top of the steering wheel.

We're parked by Astoria Park. Green grass slopes beyond the windshield, broken up by massive trees, winding trails, and the tips of the bridge I can see in the distance behind it all. Several women dressed in leggings and sports bras, earbuds firmly warding off any chance of conversation, jog along the trail, passing a couple of guys pushing baby strollers.

It's cloudy today, but there's no forecast of rain.

"Tell me about the attack," Sam says, and I can feel his eyes on me as I watch these average New Yorkers enjoy the somewhat gloomy Spring day. "Don't leave anything out."

So I tell him. Slowly, as thoroughly as I can, sometimes doubling back if I remember a detail that I accidentally left out. I force my words to remain calm and sure, like I'm reporting a mission back to my superiors, instead of desperately trying to convince my therapist that I'm not delusional.

"I don't have any marks on me," I say when I'm finished, looking down at my bare arms above my watch and collapsed web shooters that just look like wristbands. "Any bruises I had healed while I was in school. There's no sign of tampering in my suit, and all the video footage was altered so well, it convinced Mr. Stark."

I look at Sam again, feeling a niggling of worry at his lack of expression. Swallowing, I keep going. "There's no proof, Sam. None. And that scares me more than anything. This guy knows what he's doing."

Sam's brows furrow as he blows out a breath, and I watch him with a tightness in my shoulders I can't relax no matter how many times I roll them back.

"Well?" My voice cracks. "What's the verdict, doc? Is your patient cracked?"

He shoots me a sharp look. "Hey. None of that."

"Sorry."

"I'm not going to ask you how sure you are of what you saw."

"Thank you."

"But you understand how this looks," Sam says gently, carefully.

"I'm aware." My fingers curl over the edge of the seat.

"So we're going to handle this with a lot of caution. I'm gonna ask you to be super patient and super honest with me from here on out. You got that? You tell me everything, and I mean everything as it happens."

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"You know what I'm going to ask," I say.

He nods, his eyes horrifically calm. "Yeah, Pete, I do. And you know what the answer is already."

Jaw clenching, I look away from him and stare out my window before I give a sharp nod.

"Hey," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "My job here is to stay objective. Get all the facts, consider them, then consider them again before coming up with the right course of action."

"Your job is to believe me," I say evenly, watching a couple morons on skateboards whiz past an elderly man shuffling along with his walker.

"I never said I didn't."

"You might as well have."

"Peter, look at it from my perspective," Sam says, squeezing my shoulder. "If in the unlikely case you are experiencing severe symptoms, which is completely normal and does not make you crazy by the way, then it's my job to take this seriously in order to provide you with the care you need."

"Okay, time out," I turn back to him, beseeching him with my eyes. "No more therapist talk. Talk to me like you're my friend."

"I am your friend, kid."

"Then look at it from _my _perspective. I was attacked, and the guy that did it wiped out all proof like he wanted to frame me as crazy. I don't know who, and I don't know why. And my teammates are more inclined to believe the picture the bad guy is painting because I might be a little traumatized from being hunted in space."

Sam frowns. "I get that."

I go to scoff, but he tightens his grip and gives me the smallest of shakes. "Hey. I get it. I'd be scared as hell, too. But this is where you've got to trust us. Trust me. We are taking this super seriously. If this psycho is out there, we're gonna get him. No way someone can pull something over the Avengers, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And if he's not," Sam adds quietly. "Then you have to trust us to take care of you, ok?"

This is not going like I hoped. The worst part is that I understand. I can see how this looks, can see why they want me to consider that this could all be in my head. But I know my head. Spazzy as it is. And I know what happened was real, and I have another target on my back.

Pins and needles begin prickling at the base of my scalp, scattering down to my shoulders.

My brows knit together, and I look back over my shoulder through the back window. Through the trees, the other cars parked behind us in the narrow parking lot, the sloping grass that a golden retriever is sprinting across to catch a frisbee, I don't see anything out of sorts.

But I feel it.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"In the spirit of being honest, I gotta tell you we're being watched," I say without tearing my gaze from the back window, feeling unseen eyes boring into me where I sit.

Sam shifts in his seat, letting go of my shoulder to casually look where I'm looking. "Are you sensing it right now?"

I nod stiffly.

Then I whirl at the click of sound as Sam opens his door and slides out the driver's seat.

"What are you doing?" I demand, scrambling out of the car after him.

"Taking this seriously," he replies, striding determinedly in the direction I'd been staring.

I curse under my breath and slam my car door a little harder than necessary as I follow. Sam raises his keys to lock the car without glancing back, and I hurry to match his stride, both of us making a half assed attempt to look casual.

"Do you still feel it?" he asks, his sharp eyes scanning the tree line.

I roll my shoulders, glancing nervously around. "Yeah."

"If you're right about this," Sam says quietly. "It's worse than you think."

"Why is that?"

"Because almost every single time you've felt that sensation of someone watching you, it's been without your suit."

A chill shudders through me.

The trees are denser here, massive oaks and towering elms, and these trails are more abandoned. Most of the park goers seemed to be favoring the other, more sprawling parts of Astoria Park, and the sounds of their racing steps and voices fade slightly.

"There's no way you can pinpoint that little spidey sense of yours, is there?" Sam mutters, bending to pretend to adjust his shoe.

I shake my head, fingers tapping nervously at my thighs as I glance all around me, feeling the eyes on me like a physical, crawling touch.

"Wait here," says Sam, then goes jogging off trail through the trees.

"Sam!" I hiss, but he doesn't reply. I watch as his form gets smaller and smaller, then disappears.

The cloud covered sky mixed with the cover the massive trees provide cast a dull, eerie hue over this part of the park. A gentle breeze passes through, rustling the branches as if on cue.

Should Spring be this creepy?

Resisting the urge to shift into a defensive crouch or leap up into the branches of the tree above me, I choose instead to lean against the bark, arms folded over my chest as I scan the area around me over and over.

"Where are you?" I whisper.

The minutes crawl by. Sam doesn't return.

And that feeling? It grows until I swear I can feel hot breath cascading down my neck and back, until my insides are nearly vibrating with the demand to move, to fight, to run.

I want to shout into the trees, want to demand that whoever the hell is stalking me show his face. I want to-

A hand curls over my shoulder.

I whirl, eyes wide, my fingers closing tightly around a wrist, my other hand raised in attack.

"Easy," says Sam, not looking alarmed at all that I nearly just punched him in the nose.

"Can you not do that?" I hiss, letting him go.

"I was calling your name." Sam frowns. "I thought you heard me coming."

"Oh." I glance around. "Anything?"

"No. Do you still feel it?"

I shift where I stand. "No."

Sam casts a last glance over his shoulder as well. "Let's go back."

We return to the car, my mind spinning and my stomach curdling from hunger as I finally reach for my sandwich on the dash.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for checking."

"Always, kid. Just because we didn't find anything doesn't mean that there wasn't something there. We'll keep looking. Promise me in return that you'll keep that open mind, yeah?"

I nod, my mouth too full to speak.

"Atta boy, squirt. Come on, let's get you home."

I give him a half-hearted glare at the nickname, then relax into my seat.

Let them think that there's a possibility I'm nuts. That's fine. As long as they are also looking into the possibility that I'm right, it doesn't matter. This guy, whoever he is, is gonna mess up. And the Avengers are gonna be there when he does.

And so will I.

* * *

. . .

. . .

**A/N: . . . anybody still there? **

**I cannot believe how long it has been, and I have to start this off by apologizing for disappearing on you guys. It wasn't intentional, I promise. Life just got even crazier and busier than it already was. I'd go into details, but that's not what you guys are here for. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and who reached out to me on here and on social media just to check in to make sure I was okay. I am okay! Better than okay! Just busy as heck and focusing on trying to get my novel published. (Query letters are being sent out to agents, so keep your fingers crossed for me!)**

**Anyways! I hope some of you lovely readers are still around and interested in this series! I can't promise regular or prompt updates, my schedule won't allow that. But, as always, I promise that I won't abandon this fic or this series, and thanks to a couple of you who messaged me on instagram words of encouragement, I found the inspiration to hop back on the Marvel train! **

**SO this chapter is pretty short, but rest assured there's another one in the works, and this one is gonna get pretty exciting. I miss this world so much, and I miss YOU guys so much! **

**I hope you are all staying safe during the crazy times we are currently in right now. I'm still working, but should hopefully have some time in the evenings to do some more writing. As always, dear readers, I'd LOVE to hear from you! If you still want to read this series, please leave a comment below to let me know what you think of the new chapter, how you are doing, and how excited you are for more MCU fanfic to distract from all the scary stuff going on in the world! **

**Love and Miss you all! **

**XOXOXOXO **

**Queen**

* * *

Coming Up:

CHAPTER SEVEN: Eye of the Tiger

Forced to continue daily life as if he isn't being stalked by a mysterious predator, Peter, Ned, and his classmates head out on their biology field trip to the Bronx Zoo, chaperoned by several teachers, parents, and one Aunt May. What could possibly go wrong?


	7. Eye of the Tiger

**CHAPTER SEVEN: EYE OF THE TIGER**

Wednesday

**. . .**

**. . .**

**Peter Parker**

"Dude, there's a peacock by your foot."

French fry half raised to my lips, I pause, glancing down. Sure enough, the large, sleek, blue bird is strutting by, his plumage draped like a train behind him.

"Huh."

"Offer it a fry."

"I'm good."

"Smile," says Aunt May, her phone aimed in my direction. I do so and give an awkward thumbs up as the peacock moves idly away, a gaggle of kids traipsing after it at a distance carefully maintained by their hovering parents.

"Damn." May frowns at her phone. She has a black baseball cap perched on her head with an elephant on the front and the words "BRONX ZOO" plastered underneath that she got at the gift shop. "I only got its tail."

The three of us have our own table in the seating area outside the Dancing Crane Cafe. Our classmates, teachers, and other chaperones occupy the rest of the tables around us, some of them overflowing back inside the cafe.

I glance at the fourth chair at our table, empty, and wish MJ was here.

We spent the morning led by our AP Bio II Teacher, Mr. Bidwell, and the designated educator provided by the Wildlife Conservation Society here at the zoo.

The conservation educator gave a long winded, overly rehearsed speech on the role of modern zoos and protecting wildlife, then took us in one of the zoo's classrooms to meet Sylvia the sloth and analyze data on genetics and how they inform zookeepers' care for animals.

Now we break for lunch, after which we're free to explore the zoo ourselves until the bus comes at four to pick us up and take us back to school.

Ned has a map of the zoo spread out on the only part of the table not covered in red plastic trays of food. He's leaning over it, chicken tender in hand, a glob of ketchup seconds away from splattering onto the brightly colored map.

"Ok, we only have a couple hours, people, so we have to prioritize. Peter, I know you really want to hit up the butterfly garden, but we have a lot of predators to see," says Ned.

I give him a quizzical look. "Dude, I don't care about the butterflies."

"Sure," Ned gives an exaggerated wink. May looks on, amused, and takes another bite of her sandwich.

"I want to see the bison," says Aunt May, peering down at the map. "That is, if you two are cool with me tagging along. I don't want to cramp your style or anything."

I snort. "Cramp our style?"

"I like Bison," agrees Ned. "I really want to check out the African animals. Giraffes are awesome. Also, we HAVE to hit up Tiger Mountain. Sounds so legit."

"Sounds good to me," I agree.

Behind May, Flash walks by carrying his trash laden tray. He catches me looking at him and raises his hand to flip me off with an exaggerated grin. May turns to see who I'm looking at, and he smoothly waves. "Hey Mrs. P!"

"Hi Flash. How's your mom doing?"

"Oh, she's doing great, thanks for asking!" Flash gives her an award winning smile and heads inside to dump his tray.

"I hate that guy," mutters Ned.

"We shouldn't hate anyone, Ned," May advises, pointing a fry at him. Then pauses. "Although I really can't stand his mother."

"How come?"

"She always pretends like she doesn't know me, like every time we see each other it's the first time. Ah well, what can you do?" she stretches.

Ned and I exchange a glance.

"So . . . bison?"

We finish our lunch, dump our trays, and let Ned navigate our way through the zoo, bypassing other small groups of our classmates, parents herding their kids in strollers and some even on leashes.

The day is pleasantly warm, a cool breeze breaking up the monotony of the sun, and I find myself relaxing as we explore, pausing at the major exhibits to check out the animals.

We quickly realize the bison are on the opposite end of the zoo, so Ned plans out a route that will wind through the major highlights and end our day by the bison before returning to the bus with our classmates.

We start with the World of Reptiles building, pausing in front of a burmese python enclosure, glass wall and everything, to make the appropriate Harry Potter joke. May is extra camera happy with her phone, claiming she doesn't take enough pictures anymore. So Ned and I indulge her, posing in front of nearly every frog, lizard, and snake in the entire place.

From there we go to check out the baboons, then the African plains, circling around so we can see the giraffes.

There's no sensation of being watched. No nerves sparking to panicked life, no uneasy feeling. Today feels normal. More normal than I've felt in . . . I don't know, years at this point. Today I'm just a teenager staring up at a giraffe with his best friend and his aunt.

It's nice. Really nice.

The only thing that would make it better would be if MJ was here. I miss her deadpan expression, morphing into a small, secret smile just for me. I miss her brutal honesty, her moments of sudden shyness that always catches me off guard and makes me feel even shyer.

"Peter, look!" laughs Ned. He holds out a handful of leafy branches that cost him fifteen dollars, and a large giraffe head slowly dips down, its long purple tongue slipping free to prod at the offering.

May is laughing too, snapping pics with her phone.

"Why can't biology class always be at the zoo?" Ned asks, grinning up at the animal happily munching the leaves.

"Because we'd never get any work done," I remind him, grinning myself.

Next are the Jungle World and Himalayan Highlands, and the day goes by in an easy blur. The three of us walk up a winding path, enclosed on either side by thick, jungle-like foliage. The air is denser here, the breeze unable to get through, and I start to sweat.

So does Ned, by the look of his forehead.

"Ooh nice, tigers are next!" he exclaims, map in hand.

May is busy taking a picture of a large decorative sign with a tiger silhouette, so she doesn't see when Flash strides by with his group of friends, knocking into my shoulder and smirking as he goes.

"Douche," mutters Ned.

We approach a wooden planked building, open on either side with wide entrances and exits for the flow of people to move smoothly through. Inside stand massive glass windows looking onto a small section of jungle. There are informative plaques everywhere, and a spot to measure yourself up against the image of a tiger standing on its hind legs.

"Hey Penis," calls Flash. "You'd only come up to, like, right here, wouldn't you?"

He holds his hand up to the three foot mark, sharing a laugh with his three buddies as they move on, plowing through the crowd.

"Dude, Peter is five foot eight," retorts Ned. "You're only like, two inches taller."

I pat Ned's shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"Do you see the tiger?" May finally catches up, putting her hands on our backs as she cranes her neck to look.

"There's one lying down in the corner over there," I point.

"Whoa, how the hell did you see that? It's practically invisible." May stops. Laughs. "What am I saying, of course you saw it."

She leans in and whispers, "Was it the spidey sense?"

"What? No. Everyone is literally pointing at it."

"Oh."

Ned stands on his tiptoes. "Hmm. We might be able to see it better from the next section. Or see if another one is closer maybe."

We follow the dirt trail to the "Tiger Ridge Pavilion", a secondary building with floor to ceiling windows. A good chunk of the view of one is under water, but beyond it is a grassy, tree scattered hill which drapes up to the back of the enclosure. Massive fish swim lazily in the pond, unperturbed that they are part of a tiger exhibit.

"Dang it, you can't see anything from here," says Ned.

He's right. There aren't any tigers in sight, and the one we could barely see in the first building is gone.

"Maybe it's feeding time?" I suggest.

"They usually make a show of it here," replies Ned, looking at the corner of the map that lists all animal shows, feeding times, and activities. "A trainer comes up to the window over there by the grass and opens part of the wall to slip meat through."

There's a slight vibration in my pocket. Pulling out my phone, MJ's picture fills up the screen, and my heart leaps.

"Uh, I gotta take this," I say, waving the back of my phone to Ned and May.

"Go ahead, kiddo. We'll try to find the tiger," says May.

Ned is still frowning at the map.

I sidle my way through the crowd, stepping past a pair of toddlers and their frazzled looking mother and out to the dirt path.

"MJ!" I say, phone to my ear. "Hi!"

It comes out too loud, too high pitched, and I clear my throat and try again. "Hey."

"_Hey." _

I traipse down the hill, the shade of the tall trees protecting me from the sun and offering a semblance of privacy.

"It's uh, it's been awhile," I swallow.

_"I know. I'm sorry. It's been pretty nonstop over here."_

"Protest still going strong?"

_"Most definitely. Although mom and I are taking a break from the main rally to protest at some of the museums while we are here."_

"Cool! That's cool. Um, so how are you?"

"_Alright. Part of me is ready to be home. I miss school. And um, you know. You._"

My ears flood with heat as my stomach does a little flip. "You do? I mean, yeah, I-I miss you too."

_"Are you guys on the field trip today?_" asks MJ after a beat of awkward silence.

"Yeah. Ned, May and I are checking out the tigers. It's pretty awesome! Wish you were here."

_"I'm still mad at you, you know." _

I find a bench and plop down on it, trying not to grip my phone too tight. "Yeah. I deserve that."

_"You're still not going to tell me what really happened to you?_" she asks.

"I am," I say quickly. "I want to. It's just-"

_"Not over the phone._"

"Right. Is that totally lame of me?"

_"It is. But . . . I can also respect that. Not all conversations are appropriate via social media. In fact, most aren't."_

"Exactly!" I say, running my fingers through my hair. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it and tell you . . . stuff. I just want to do it face to face. You deserve that much."

Silence, then- _"Thanks, Peter." _

"So . . . so maybe when you get back . . . " I swallow hard, suddenly super aware of how sweaty I am and how warm the phone feels against my face. "I could, you know, take you to dinner, or-uh, coffee or something, and we could . . . we could talk?"

I can't breathe, and I think I swallowed my tongue, and my stomach is wound up so tight it's about to burst and I will vomit up the tongue I swallowed and-

"_That sounds really nice," _MJ replies, her voice shyer and containing a trace of a smile.

"It . . . it does?"

Every hair on my body stands on end, warning needling into my skin in a sudden rush.

A scream rips the air.

I'm on my feet, phone still pressed to my ear as I whirl around.

Dozens of people are tearing down the hill from the tiger enclosure, a panicked mass all running into each other and stumbling over the uneven terrain. Parents have their kids clutched to their chests, even ones that are too big to be carried, and some people are sprinting while looking over their shoulders, phones aimed back toward the tiger enclosure.

The tiger enclosure.

"_What the hell was that?!"_

"I gotta go."

Without another word, I hang up and shove the phone in my pocket, running up the hill against the crowd of people.

"Move!" I try to dart around the panicked civilians, but there are too many of them, slowing me down, shoving me deeper into the throng. "MOVE!"

"You're going the wrong way, asshole!"

"OH GOD!"

"DID YOU SEE IT? DID YOU SEE IT!?"

I'm shoving people aside, hard enough to make an impact this time, and a screaming Flash suddenly barrels into me. He clutches me, steadying himself as I make sure he doesn't faceplant and get squished by the crowd.

"Where's May and Ned?" I demand.

He looks at me with wide eyes.

"Where are they?" I shake him a little, and he points toward the tiger pavilion.

I'm running, feeling the weight of my web shooters against my wrists, disguised as a watch and leather wristband, but loaded with collapsible tech that will spring into shape at the slide of a gear.

There are too many people, too many cameras.

But Ned. MAY.

I make it past the last of the stragglers as a deep, predatory snarl echoes from inside the pavilion. Loud and close and _definitely _not from behind glass.

Then I'm in the large doorway, chest heaving, barely taking in the jarring sight of the orange fur, the black stripes, the bared teeth-May in the corner, wielding pepper spray like it's a gun, her hat askew as she shields Ned with her own body-

"Peter!" shouts Ned, spotting me, and the sound jars the beast.

Its muscles ripple and tense, shoulders raising as it crouches low to the ground to pounce. I do the same, not bothering to waste precious time activating my web shooters, realizing in a split second that I'm about to tackle a freaking tiger.

I start to lunge-

A figure shoves its way between Aunt May and the beast, and a deep voice is suddenly barking in a language I don't understand.

Startled, I freeze.

The man, huge in stature with fresh looking scars cutting across his face, towers over the big cat. It snarls at him, swipes out with its paw. But the man stands his ground, still growling out foreign commands.

Then, to my shock, he leaps forward, his fingers seizing the animal by the back of its neck, and then man and beast are forehead to forehead.

I step forward, ready to yank him away, but the tiger goes still and rigid in the man's hold. His voice quiets to a low rumble, and I see the tension in the cat's body melt away. The man lets go, steps back, and the tiger simply lies down upon the cement floor, its tail flicking back and forth.

"Oh my god," breathes May, and I see the hand holding the pepper spray is shaking violently. Her other hand, I realize, is behind her, clutching Ned's arm.

"It's alright," says the man, the bass of his voice drawing the words out like he's soothing a wild animal. "Nadia won't hurt you now."

May's eyes are riveted on him, then seem to spot me over his shoulder. "Peter!"

Seeing me snaps her out of her shock, and she rushes forward, dragging Ned along with her. She pulls us into the tightest group hug I've ever experienced, her trembling rattling through us as she breathes out, "Oh thank god. Thank god."

My eyes are still locked on the stranger, who is crouching before the tiger and scratching it behind the ears. The snarling beast is reduced to nothing more than a lazy housecat under his touch and voice.

Feeling my gaze, the man looks up, and I quickly take in his dark hair and goatee, the small white scar going through one of his eyebrows, the redder scars going across his cheek, like he'd been clawed.

The guy is _huge, _muscles on muscles, encased by the uniformed navy polo and khaki pants that all zoo employees wear, and I notice the badge clipped to his shirt pocket, marking him as one of the animal handlers.

Our eyes lock, and my skin erupts into full body chills.

_Danger. _

Aunt May pulls away, blocking my view of him, and her shaking hands are patting Ned and I down. "You aren't hurt? You're both okay?"

"You faced down a tiger with pepper spray," gapes Ned, and then he's letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. "SO badass."

"I'm fine," I say quickly. "Are _you _okay?"

"A bottle of merlot and screaming into my pillow at home, and I'll be right as rain," says May, putting a hand to her forehead. I notice the other one still has a death grip on her pepper spray, so I carefully pry it from her fingers and slip it back into her purse.

"That was a brave thing you did, throwing yourself between the tiger and the boy," says a deep voice, and May turns to blink up at the trainer, who I hadn't even heard approach us.

I crane my neck to look past him, and I see that several security officers have entered the pavilion, along with nearly a dozen trainers, some of them wielding tranquilizers as they surround the docile tiger, who yawns widely at them.

"Oh," says May. "Maternal instinct, I guess. Or blind panic. It's all kind of a blur."

"You're in shock," says the man, and he places a large, scarred hand on her elbow. "Let me escort you to the medical center."

"I'm fine."

"My supervisors are going to insist you get looked over," he says apologetically. "Especially given they are undoubtedly going to be hit with several lawsuits. But I'd really like to make sure you aren't hurt."

May seems to realize, then, who exactly the man is, because she blurts out, "Oh my god! You stopped that tiger! You just-you-_thank you._"

"I'm going to make sure the idiot who forgot to lock the gate mechanisms gets fired," vows the stranger. "That kind of irresponsibility nearly got you and your son killed."

"I can't say I'll be visiting another zoo anytime soon," admits May. "I'm sorry, being face to face with that many teeth has completely gotten rid of my manners. I'm May Parker."

"Logan West."

"Thank you, Logan. Sincerely. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't intervened. How on earth did you do that?"

Logan's dark gaze seems to devour May, and I realize my hands are balled into tight fists. "The trick with beasts, May Parker, is to show them you are the dominant predator, and they the prey."

"Sort of a . . . reverse psychology tactic?"

"You could say that. Though you were doing excellently. Most people wouldn't have been so brave in the face of so many teeth."

"Oh, it was, well, I'd say it was nothing, but that would be a bold faced lie," May laughs.

"There can be no courage in the absence of fear. Now, can I please take you and your boys to the medical center? I really insist we get you looked over."

"I-yes, of course," smiles May, still pale and trembling and leaning slightly into the man's touch. "Lead the way."

Logan leads May from the pavilion, hand on her elbow.

Ned blinks. "Dude. Did he just . . . is he hitting on your aunt?"

I stare after the scarred man, easily two or three heads taller than May, and I hear her laugh at something he said.

"Peter, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, my knuckles popping. "I'm fine."

* * *

**A/N: **

**DUN DUN DUN . . . **

**As usual, I am blown away by the responses I got on my last chapter! I shouldn't have been so surprised that so many of you have stuck around after so long, but I was! Thank you SO much to everyone who took the time to review, leave me a note, and be so supportive, encouraging, and understanding. Seriously have THE best review squad ever. **

**Special thanks to the superior PippinStrange, who this fic is dedicated to as the most belated birthday present in the world. lol. If you guys haven't read her work and need your Marvel fix, go there NOW! She has some of the best damn writing on this website, and you will not be disappointed!**

**Life is still absolutely bonkers, like I am positive it is for most, if not all of you. I'm working a lot, and spending a lot of time worrying about planning my wedding and distracting myself by playing mass amounts of video games. But occasionally I force myself to hunker down and write, and I always enjoy it when I do. **

**Speaking of writing, I started a new original book! I'm still working on getting RAVEN RISING published by querying agents, (yes I will keep you guys informed of my progress on that front!) but in the meantime, I started a new book, which I decided to post online on WattPad! So if any of you guys are interested, I have four chapters of my new novel THICKER THAN WATER. Here is the blurb: **

A raid in the mountains leaves a coven of dark witches slaughtered and a young girl orphaned and traumatized. Soldiers bring her to a town where a grieving blacksmith, only two months a widow, seems like the last possible choice to take her in. Nora Carver knows steel and flame. She knows what it is to be broken and reforged and broken again. So when her friend beseeches her to take the quiet, mysterious girl orphaned by the raid, Nora reluctantly agrees. Together they learn to heal, to find a new meaning to the word "family", just before a man with eyes like the child's shows up and threatens everything. Nora learns just how far she will go to protect her daughter, even if that means standing against the broken laws of her country, and a soulless witch thirsty for blood.

**My username on Wattpad is crystaltyrigollen, so if you stop by to read, leave me a note! I'd love to hear from you! **

**Anywho, back to the CMFU. I seriously love and miss this universe. I think we are about halfway done with Hunted, it will be a shorter story than my others, unless my muse gets carried away, which it often does, and then it's on to the next fic, the one I've been writing for years and am SO BEYOND EXCITED to share with you, SOUND OF SILENCE. You guys have no idea what's coming, and I'm freaking out about it. lol! So hopefully time allows me to get all this writing done so I can keep sharing the CMFU with you lovely readers!**

**Also, I realized I started writing an edited/rewritten version of Paint it Black and posting it on Archive of Our Own, and I wonder how many of you would be interested for me to start posting the rewrite here? Comment below!**

* * *

**DarylDixon'sLover: You are always the first one to review! Love it!**

**Puppens101: It's so good to hear from you! It always warms my heart to hear of people rereading my stories! Thank you! And thanks for the well wishes! We are hanging in there! Hope you and yours are safe as well!**

**StarStepper: Hello! I didn't expect to like writing Sam as much as I have! He really is a great character. Thanks so much!**

**cargumentluv: *waves frantically back* Hi! Thanks for sticking around! Love hearing from you!**

**Guest: Thank you!**

** .Seven: Ahhh thank you so much! YOU'RE amazing!**

**Aviendha91: Thanks so much! Peter's optimism is so precious! I adore the kid. **

**callmecarbon: Aw thank you so much! And bless you for rereading!**

**Max Rider: Ahhhh thank you! I get annoyed with adults immediately rejecting the kid/teen's suspicions in fiction, and figured especially given the circumstances of this universe that the grown ups, even with having doubts, really feel the need to go through the options to make SURE. **

**Nerdalier: Omg thank you! I will definitely let you guys know if it ever gets published! Much love!**

**Clara Brighet: Oh my word, I died reading your reviews. I love that you and Nerdalier were messaging about the update! lol! You guys are seriously the best. I believe I found the cover art on Pinterest and it just seemed too perfect not to use for this fic! I'm so glad you are enjoying! Hope you and yours are staying sane and healthy too!**

**TheRedScreech: Hi! Thank you so much for your patience and support! Really, truly means the world**

**monkeybaby: THanks! You too!**

**Writer-At-Heart0: Thank you!**

**xSapphirexRosesxFanx: We shall see!**

**PippinStrange: THANK YOU GURL!**

**Guest: Awww happy birthday! I missed you as well! **

**Sakura-Fiction: Omg thank you so so much! I'm glad you are enjoying!**

**Nathissica: Aw thank you! I think we can all use a little more fanfic right now!**

**djbluestar327: Oh my word, thank you so much for your kindness and patience. You are amazing. **

**onedemoniclilly: Ahh thanks! Good to be back!**

**whumpangstfluffrepeat: Awesome username by the way. And omg thank you so much! You are too too kind!**

**Redfoxshadow: Thanks!**

**AnarchistRising: Aw thank you! I didn't realize how much I liked Sam until I started writing him more! He really is awesome and underrated. PSYCHED for the show with him and BUcky!**

**Aron R Vig: I'm back! Awww thank you so much! Bless you for all the rereads!**

**zoyzonda: Omg thank you! That is always one of my goals, to stick true to character and make them believable while putting them through my own scenarios!**

**HalloumiHermit: Aw thank you very much!**

**parisindy: THanks!**

**Treblemkr: Thank you so much! Totally made my day!**

**LoonyLovegood1981: Hi! Hope you are staying safe and sane as well! I really appreciate your super kind words! Thank you!**

**EimearC: I know I can't believe how long it's been since I updated! It didn't feel that long!**

**Shannon O'Gorman: I sent PippinStrange a screenshot of your message and it made her day! I also LOVE the departed universe she created, and I've been lucky enough to get early access snippets, and MAN are you guys in for a treat!**

**Marvi: THank you! I really try to have a good balance of everything to have a well rounded story! Thanks very much!**

**maili-chan: Aww you are so sweet! :D Thank you so much for your super kind words! Can't wait to write some more!**

**jenbaby2010: I'll do my best!**

**Dripht: Your reviews are always a delight to read. I also find something special and unique when reading versus watching a film. Though I absolutely adore the cinematic experience! Thank you so much as always for your super thoughtful words! It's fun getting into the minds of all these different characters! I also really enjoy Bruce/Natasha, so you can definitely expect more of them in this series! Hope you are doing well and staying healthy too!**

**seireidoragon: Thank you so much! GOod to be back! Stay well!**

* * *

COMING UP: CHAPTER EIGHT: SHERE KAHN

Was the tiger attack at the zoo merely a freak accident? Or something malicious and intentional? Given recent events, Peter Parker is inclined to believe the latter. And all of his instincts are warning him about the mysterious Logan West, who seems to be taking an interest in his Aunt May. Choosing to trust and confide in the adults in his life, Peter finds himself leaning on Ned for support as his suspicions grow, and he decides to take action on his own. Or, rather, with his Guy in the Chair.


End file.
